When We Met
by Oh Dee
Summary: Shikamaru has the girl of his dreams—until she decides to marry his best friend and dump him. Torn and heartbroken, he ventures to the other end of Japan, meeting a strange and spectacular woman on the way. Rated for language.
1. Prologue,  First Meeting

Deleted the first one because I'm a fuck up. Sorry for the first review. It was lovely, but I suck :(

_Inspired by the Hindi movie _Jab We Met _(When We Met)._

**Prologue  
**_First Meeting_

Western weddings were worse than traditional Japanese weddings. In a traditional Japanese wedding, Shikamaru wouldn't have to attend at all. But Ino did not do traditional Japanese weddings, and Chouji did not do anything Ino did not do. Which meant their marriage was a thoroughly Western fanfare of white, a "priest", and lilies.

He stood in silence, staring at the ceremony that was happening before him with a scowl. Ino looked radiant in white, pale hair glowing, blue eyes shining. He was sure that Chouji wore a stupidly large grin that split his kind face, even though Chouji's back was turned towards the priest proceeding over them. There he was, best man to the groom, witness to the union of his best friends, until death do them part.

And he was in love with the bride.

It was against his will. He never wanted to like Ino, but she was pretty and knew him best and was always there for him. If he didn't love her—well, then he had very little hope to love anyone at all.

"I now pronounce you husband and wife." Ino was beaming as she turned to her new husband. "You may kiss the bride."

He closed his eyes at this. When he opened them again and found that the couple had already walked down the aisle, he bowed his head and excused himself, leaving out the backdoor of the chapel.

The streets of Tokyo were always crowded. Even on such a horrendous day, it took Shikamaru a long time to reach the train station.

He didn't really think about what he was doing when he climbed aboard. He didn't really think about what he was doing when he took a seat in one of the chairs. He didn't really think about what he was doing until the train started to move and he realized without much care that he had no idea where the train was going.

"You're in my seat."

The words were muffled in Shikamaru's ears. He was half-tempted to look up and see if the words were directed at him, but he figured they couldn't be. The universe couldn't possibly be so messed up in having him sit in a seat that was already booked in a nearly empty train.

"Did you hear me or are you deaf? You're in my _seat_."

This time, Shikamaru _did_ look up. He was met with a pair of startling green eyes staring straight at him, clearly annoyed and not very pleased. When he allowed himself to focus on more than just the eyes, he found that it was a clearly annoyed and not very pleased woman who stood before him, hands on her hips, lips pressed thin.

She pointed at him. "My seat. You're in it. Thirteen. Get up. Do you not speak Japanese? _This is my seat. Get up_," she said in English. She flashed him her ticket, which had a large number 13 on it.

He sighed. Of course he was sitting in someone else's seat. Someone had already taken the love of his life, what would stop anyone from taking his seat? Nothing, that's what. So he stood and moved to the seat that faced it.

The woman glared at him for a moment longer before taking her luggage and stuffing it in one of the overhead compartments. She took the seat he'd just been occupying and crossed her legs, staring down her small nose at him.

"Deaf and stupid," she mumbled darkly as she pilfered through her purse and took out a book. She spared him another glance, shrugged, and opened her book.

She was a lovely woman. Not prettier than Ino, but then again, there were few women who were. But she was definitely a looker, despite the blonde hair that had clearly been dried out from over-dyeing. She was slightly shorter than Ino, with a little more meat on her bones, tan skin, and strong legs.

"Stop staring," she said, eyes still glued to her book. "It's rude."

He turned away to look out the window. And that was how he stayed.

* * *

AN: And that's the prologue, guys. I was watching Jab We Met on a recommendation from a friend who loves the movie, and as I was watching it, I was struck with how GOOD of a ShikaTema this would make. So there you have it! Hope you enjoy! PLEASE REVIEW and check out my other stories (haha, shameless tooting of my own horn, thanks).

See you soon!


	2. Second Meeting

**Second Meeting**

It only occurred to Shikamaru that he was leaving Tokyo when suddenly, the scene outside shifted from bustling metropolis to quiet countryside, dotted with green and an occasional stray cow. It had been so long since he had seen hills and such a large quantity of trees; he'd almost forgotten what it looked like.

"Have you never seen trees before?"

The question came from the woman who sat in front of him. He gave her a sharp look that he hoped translated to something along the lines of, "I really don't want to talk to you, mind your business."

He sucked at translations. "Apparently not," she observed, using her train ticket as a makeshift bookmark to hold her place in the book she held in her lap. "We call this the countryside."

Shikamaru licked his lips but chose not to answer. No reason to humor her. Maybe she'd take the hint and stop speaking, leaving him to wallow in peace.

She had different plans. Instead, she only got more comfortable, throwing her book back into her bag and stretching out her legs. "You really are stupid. Ignoring me won't get you anywhere. It'll provoke me further."

This was just his luck. Only a few minutes prior, he'd been thoroughly dumped in the worst way possible. Sure, Ino felt terrible about it and had called him crying the night before, seeking forgiveness for something she could not control (love was unexpected, she said). And sure, Ino and him had never actually had a thing because he'd been too lazy to ask and she had obviously not returned his feelings. And sure, Chouji was his best mate and had had no idea about anything. But still, he'd been dumped. To top things off, he'd climbed aboard a train that was going God-knew-where and sat in someone else's seat, earning him the label of stupidity. And now he had to entertain the person he'd accidentally taken the seat, all because she was one of those feisty, scary women he couldn't stand up to.

She was staring at him, bored. "Come on; you sat in my seat and pretended you couldn't hear me. The least you could do is entertain me."

He turned back to the window, hoping against hope that the crazy bitch would leave him alone, or at least find something else to occupy her.

* * *

It was not to be. Only a few minutes after the woman had abandoned her attempts to get him to speak ("What a waste of time," she had said, before digging into her bag and retreating a Blackberry that put Shikamaru's neat looking company cell phone to shame), the conductor stopped at their seats.

"Tickets, please." The conductor was a middle-aged man with graying hair that poked out from beneath his blue hat, making him seem almost comical. He tipped his blue hat at the woman when she threw him a smile that showed all her teeth.

The woman wasted no time in handing her ticket over. He took one look at it and punched a few holes, then handed it back.

Shikamaru could feel the heat from both the conductor and the woman's stares. "Ticket?" the conductor asked.

He shrugged, looking at the man.

"He's asking for your ticket," the woman said, exasperation seeping into her voice.

"I don't have one."

She sucked her teeth at him as the conductor's eyes narrowed. "What?" The conductor did not sound happy.

"He just told you," the woman snapped, "he doesn't have one. Where are you going?" she asked, directing the question to Shikamaru.

He shrugged again.

"For the love of—" She wasn't even bothering to hide the fact that she was growing agitated now. "Do you even know where this train is going?"

He was unsure if it would be safe to shrug for a third time, so instead, he shook his head.

"You've got to be kidding me."

"Excuse me," the conductor interrupted. "But I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to step off this train on the next stop."

"He's going to Fukuoka," the woman said. "Let him buy a ticket now."

"I'm afraid—"

She raised her hand, stopping the conductor mid-apology. "I've done it before and besides, this train is almost empty. Do him a favor. Clearly, he's either stupid or traumatized. Just look at him. I wouldn't be surprised if he were both."

The conductor relaxed as he gave Shikamaru a sympathetic look. "Sir, can you pay for it?"

Shikamaru felt like he'd been given no choice. But he wasn't complaining. Anything to get away from Tokyo and everything he'd left behind. He reached into his back pocket and withdrew his wallet, pulling out a few bills and quickly handing them over.

The conductor counted. "Your change."

Shikamaru shrugged. "Keep it."

The woman nodded. "Thank you, Mister Conductor. Sorry for the inconvenience."

The conductor tipped his hat again before continuing down the aisle, stopping only once to check a ticket before heading into the next car.

The woman stared at him for a long time, forcing Shikamaru to speak.

"What?"

"Are you stupid?"

He didn't deign the question with an answer.

"Stupid people usually don't have such a crazy amount of money in their back pocket."

"Can't you mind your business?"

"No. You forfeited that right when you decided to sit in a seat that wasn't yours."

He sighed. "I don't want to listen to your banter."

"Then by all means," she waved at the aisle, "you can leave. I bought my ticket first."

Shikamaru didn't think twice. He stood and moved to the end of the car, wrenched the door open, and stepped through.

The wind met him full force, forcing him to close his eyes. He gripped the handle of one door firmly as he looked down to see the tracks speed past him.

He'd never been melodramatic in the least, and while a pessimist, hadn't ever entertained morbid thoughts of an early death. In all honesty, he had imagined his death to be many years down the road, preferably after his retirement, during his sleep. But as he stood there, watching the world beneath him disappear at an alarming speed, he wondered if things would be easier if he jumped. At least he wouldn't have to return to a lonely apartment; be forced to go to dinner with a newlywed couple that just happened to contain one person he loved dearly; an existence that was half-assed and boring. If he jumped—

"What are you doing?"

The woman with the green eyes stood at the car door, arms crossed in front of her. If she was surprised to find him standing there contemplating suicide, she was a very good actress, since she spoke her next words with all the emotion capable of an amoeba.

"If you're going to commit suicide, don't make such a spectacle of yourself. Either do it or get back inside."

"Can't you leave me alone?"

She moved inside but held the door open for him. "I'll take that you're not going to jump off a moving train, so we can talk about the fact I'm annoying you in the safety of a sealed car."

He grumbled, following her into the car he'd just left and avoiding the look the only other passenger gave him. He sat in his seat, crossed his legs, and glared out the window.

"I hate talking to strangers on the train—"

"Then why do you continue doing it?"

"—But I'm not going to ignore some lanky mess of a man who looks like the very picture of hell. What is it?"

"What is what?"

"Your problem. What's is it?"

It wasn't like he was going to spill years of turmoil to some cheeky, talkative, crazy bitch he'd met on a train he hadn't even known he was going to board. He could barely convince himself about his problems, how was he expected to share them with someone who would convince him his life _did_ suck?

"I do not like being ignored."

"Then stop asking me questions."

She kicked him. He hissed in pain as his hand reached down out of its own volition, rubbing the place her shoe had connected with his shin. She smirked and cocked her head at him, ignoring the glower he gave her in return.

"I'm not going to pretend I care or anything, or that I can even give you advice on how to fix your problem, but it's clearly eating you up inside. If I'm going to sit here for seven hours having to look at your mug, then you better be smiling, or at least without that pout."

"It's not your concern."

"Obviously. So what is it?"

"You. You're my problem. You're so troublesome. Just keep your mouth shut, woman."

Her mouth was open—but only slightly. Her eyes, however, had become slits of bubbling anger, and he could see her hand form a fist.

"Fine," she said a moment later. "Have it your way. I hope the next time the urge hits you, you _do_ jump off."

He closed his eyes and leaned his head against the window, hoping sleep would claim him and he'd wake up to find that he was in his own bed, in his own apartment, with a beautiful blonde beauty asleep in his arm, his bigger best friend dating another beautiful girl that wasn't Ino.

The train jolted, forcing Shikamaru to open his eyes and massage his head, which had just banged against the window and made the woman laugh.

"Nice try, man." She winked at him, turning a page in her book. "It looks like life is just _not_ going to go your way right now."

* * *

He slept for a good amount of time to find that, when he woke, the train had slowed to a stop and was stationed in Kyoto. He read the sign over and over, having missed the characters that had once been so familiar to him when he made the trip from Tokyo to Kyoto so many times in the past.

Inspired, he leaped up, jostling the sleeping woman slightly. He didn't pause to see if he'd woken her up since it didn't matter anymore—he was going to get off here, damn Fukuoka and all the money he'd paid, and damn her.

The station hadn't changed since the last time he'd been there. It had been over three years since he'd seen the vending machine at the end of the station, and when he jabbed a button repeatedly for a few seconds and a coke slid out, he was suddenly glad that some things didn't have to change.

He took a seat on a bench. Pulling the tab of his soda can, he wondered about his life. When had it gone to shit? And by shit, he meant, when had Ino and Chouji notice each other, let alone get together?

They'd been friends for years. Inevitable, seeing as their fathers had been inseparable since their youth. At first, Chouji and him hadn't really liked the blonde beauty, vain and shallow from the moment she learned to hold a mirror all by herself. Still, they went through school and had grown up—together.

It was in college (they'd all gotten accepted into Tokyo University) that Shikamaru realized, with great regret, that it irked him to see Ino with other men because he was, unfortunately, in love with her. He told her so, one day when they were in his apartment, eating shabu shabu. Chouji had gone into the kitchen to wash the dishes, leaving the two alone in the living room, a small, dinky table separating them.

"Ino."

She blinked her pretty blue eyes at him. "What is it, Shika?"

"I love you."

Her smile fell in an instant as her fingers flew up to cover her mouth in shock.

"I know," he said, sullen. "It just hit me, too."

"You are not in love with me."

He couldn't help the confusion that he was sure was plastered on his face. "Ino—"

Blonde hair fell forward when she shook her head vigorously. "No. You don't even know what love is. You're confusing it. You don't love me."

"But I—"

Her hand reached over to grab his, slender fingers on the back of his hand. "Stop it, Shikamaru. Even if you are, I love someone else."

Sasuke. Of course. "Who?"

"Chouji."

Shikamaru shook his head at the memory. He loved Chouji far more than he loved Ino, so when Chouji had returned to his seat and Ino could only stare at him, completely absorbed, Shikamaru made the conscious choice of backing off and letting the blonde go. He figured, then when he was a silly, naïve nineteen year old, that losing out to your best friend was better than some basket case thug who's only main concern was finding his deadbeat brother. It turned out not to be so good after all, especially when witnessing their marriage.

"The train's boarding."

He snapped out of his thoughts. The woman stood before him, hand on her hip, weight on one leg as the other tapped an uneven beat of irritation.

"Let's go," she said, taking a quick look backwards to make sure the train was still there.

"No." He stood up and walked away from her. No way he was going to sit there and take more of her verbal harassment. As a man, he couldn't hurt a female, but if she spoke to him anymore, he'd probably have to.

Footsteps followed him as he headed to the stairs that would lead out of the station. "Come on! You just paid over a thousand yen!"

"Go away."

The sound of a whistle reached them, causing him to halt. He turned around to see the woman standing paralyzed, watching as the train began to pick up speed as it departed the station. A second later, she screamed, throwing her hands in the air, running down the stairs with a speed Shikamaru did not expect.

Too bad. He continued on his merry way, unaware that his whole life was taking a major turn.


	3. Third Meeting

**Third Meeting**

Things did change, even if vending machines in train stations did not. Old stores had closed and new ones had taken their place, leaving Shikamaru very confused when he stepped out into the sunlight, only to be pummeled with rain.

"Great," he mumbled darkly, staring at the clouds that had gathered above. "Just great. Why don't you send down some lightening while you're at it?"

A flash of light filled the sky, thunder following a few seconds later.

Life could not get any worse.

He started for the corner, intent on finding his way around a city he'd once fancied himself familiar with. Then, just as the light turned green, signaling he could walk, he felt the back of his knees give and fell to the ground.

"This is all your fault!"

He rolled over on the pavement to find himself staring up into eyes he thought he'd left back in the station. The woman hovered over him, her features contorted in anger, a snarl pulling her lips back to reveal a row of brilliantly white teeth. She was soaked from head to toe, the white shirt she wore revealing far more than Shikamaru wanted to see.

"The train's left! Now get up and find a way to get me to the next station, or so help me, I will get you closer to your death wish."

"How is this my fault?"

She growled. "The one time I decide to be a caring, good citizen and check to make sure you were alright and going to make it back on the train, Life decides it doesn't give a fuck and makes the train leave. That's why."

"No one told you to check up on me. This is your own fault."

The woman wiped the back of her hand across her forehead. "I don't give a fuck if it's the fucking _pope's_ fault, you are getting me to the station in Osaka."

Shikamaru struggled to his feet, wincing at the pain caused by hitting the cement. He ignored the woman's glaring and took one look at his watch before grabbing her hand and pulling her down the street. He spotted a cab and ran for it, pulling the woman along, her distaste evident in the string of curses that spewed out of her mouth.

Reaching the cab, he wrenched the door open and forced her inside, ignoring the driver's exclaims against their wet nature. He moved in beside her and directed the taxi forward.

The taxi did not move. Instead, the driver took out a set of prayer beads and began a steady chant.

"No," the woman said. She tapped the driver on his shoulder, interrupting him mid-chant. The man looked at her in his rearview mirror and shook his beads, starting his prayer again. She plucked them right out of his hands and pointed at the wheel. "Drive," she ordered.

The man sighed, started the car, and began to drive.

At 20 miles per hour.

Shikamaru could feel the woman shaking beside him. It was either because she was finally starting to feel the cold from the rain or because she was just about ready to punch the driver.

"What are you doing?" she screeched, startling the driver.

The driver did not look at her as he answered, "Driving!"

"I can walk backwards faster than this. Hurry up! I have a train to catch!"

"You won't catch the train," the driver said simply, speeding up to 22 miles.

The woman was fuming; her hair, which had been lying flat due to the water, was standing on end, infused with anger. Shikamaru was sure it was sending out electricity and that tendrils of smoke were rising out of her nose. And had her eyes just turned red?

Holy shit, he was sitting next to the Anti-Christ.

"Stop the car," he ordered.

The driver looked back at him. "What?"

"Just stop the car."

They pulled up to the sidewalk. Shikamaru got out, went around the car, and opened the driver's seat, stepping in and forcing the driver to tumble into the passenger's seat.

"Sir, what're you—"

"We're going to catch that train."

The woman leaned back, a smirk on her face just as Shikamaru pressed on the gas pedal and sped down the street, way above the speed limit. The driver beside him, with his once-handsome face lined with wrinkles, was trembling in his seat, holding on to the handle above the window for dear life.

Street after street flew past them until they were on the highway, racing at a speed that was sure to get them thrown into jail without a moment's hesitation. Without a cop in sight, it finally seemed as things were starting to look up.

It was luck that made them get to Osaka in a short amount of time. Shikamaru slid into a parking spot in front of the station and jumped out, the woman quickly following suit, ignoring the calls of the taxi driver who demanded his fare. They ran up the steps and into the building, coming to a halt when they saw the train was waiting patiently at the platform.

"Oh, that's good," the woman said, clearly relieved, her breathing only slightly irregular.

Shikamaru was about to respond when a hand pulled him down from his collar. The driver glared at him, anger twisting his mouth.

"Give me my money, you sneaky—"

"Here," Shikamaru said, reaching for his wallet and taking out a few bills.

"Give me that," the woman said, plucking a few hundred yen out of his hand. "I'm thirsty and my wallet is with my things. Thanks." She waltzed away, the smirk she had on the car still permanently glued to her face.

Shikamaru sighed and reached for more money, stuffing it into the small hands of the driver. "Sorry."

The driver harrumphed and let him go to count the money. Shikamaru took the chance to walk away and settle on a bench, content to get both greedy, religious driver and maddening woman away from him.

When he heard the train start again, Shikamaru released a sigh he hadn't realized he'd been holding. He leaned further back into his seat, at peace for the first time that day. It was already late, and if he left soon, he could catch a local train to Nara.

That's when he heard it.

"ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?"

It was so startling, Shikamaru had to look around to find the source, although he had a sneaking suspicion of who had said it (her voice was just so distinct and hard to ignore). Finding the woman from the train standing at one end of the platform, hands in the air, and a departing train just leaving the station, Shikamaru felt every good feeling drain out of his body and disappear into the air.

"This is absolutely ridiculous! I turn around for one fucking second to buy water—this son of a bitch tries to sell me a bottle for six hundred yen—" at this, she pointed accusingly at a store owner who looked sheepishly away, trying to hide behind his magazine stand, "—and the fucking train leaves? Unbelievable!"

A station attendant walked up cautiously to the woman, who was still wet and definitely cold, judging from her chest area that Shikmaru just couldn't help but notice.

"Ma'am—"

"I'm twenty-six years old, I'm not a fucking 'ma'am!'"

"Miss," the lady corrected herself, "is there a problem?"

The woman was as red as a tomato, convincing Shikamaru she was part fruit and that was why she looked somewhat foreign. "No, I just scream and yell at shit when I'm giddy as fuck. Yes, I have a fucking problem. I'm supposed to be on that train that just left and all my stuff is on there!"

The lady bowed her head in apology. "I'm terribly sorry for the trouble. I will go ahead and phone the conductor and ask for him to remove your things and leave them in the next station in Hiroshima."

"No."

"Excuse me?"

Shikamaru had no idea why he grinned at this. He'd known the woman for a grand total of a few hours, didn't know her name, was almost positive she was everything he should avoid in a human, and he was somehow mildly entertained by the fact that he knew what kind of person she was. It came as no surprise that she was not thrilled with the situation and that she was going to let the station attendant know just how un-thrilled she was.

"I said no. I want you to phone the conductor and tell him to send my luggage on a train that's coming back to Osaka. I'll be here til the morning and I expect my things to be right fucking here bright and fucking early."

The lady looked uncomfortable as she nodded. Shikamaru almost laughed. "Is there a number where I can reach you?"

The woman scowled and thought for a moment, forefinger resting on her lower lip. Her eyes searched the station and found his. Cursing his luck, he slid down his seat, hoping she hadn't actually noticed him.

A few seconds later, he heard her voice, "Yo, what's your number?"

He tilted his head to see her standing over the chair. "What?"

"What's your phone number?"

Shikamaru was silent. There was no way he was going to give his number away, but looking at her again, he figured he had absolutely no say in the matter.

He told the station lady, who jotted it down diligently and nodded. "Thank you," she said, and turned back to the woman. "I'll have your things here for you tomorrow. What's your name?"

"Temari. Great." The woman looked at Shikamaru pointedly. "Well, don't just sit there. Let's go."

He had no way of explaining the panic that crept into his voice, "Where are we going?"

"We're going to a hotel. You've suddenly earned yourself the privilege of accompanying me to Fukuoka."

Truly, there were no good forces in the world, for if there were, Shikamaru would not be in such a situation, and with such a woman at that.

* * *

"We are not staying here."

Shikamaru did not bother to look at her as he started up the stairs. He'd stopped at a love hotel, sign bright and neon and as vulgar as the establishment proclaimed itself reading _Heavenly Kiss_. Although the building itself was plain and inconspicuous, there was no kidding himself on what would be waiting inside. "Yes, we are. I'm the one with the money."

"You little—"

"Women should not indulge in such language. It's unbecoming."

He didn't get to find out if Temari, as she was called, was readying herself for a retort because at that moment, he opened the front door and stepped inside.

The lobby was almost completely empty, save for a panel where a selection of rooms could be found. A black-and-white sign with rates stood by a counter with a machine.

"I don't know you, but I hate you," Temari muttered darkly, standing near him. "Hate."

He ignored her as he read the rates, trying to decide. Judging by his watch, they had only a few more hours left before they'd have to make their way back to the station and claim Temari's things. By the hour seemed perfectly alright—

"Sorry dude, but the machines are all broken."

Both Shikamaru and Temari turned to see a young man holding a CLOSED sign. "I'm gonna close for tonight but you guys are welcome to pick a room and pay me and I'll get you a key."

"No, thank you," Temari said quickly, heading for the door.

"What she means is yes, we'll take whatever room." Shikamaru pulled her back by the shirt, the material stretching under his hands. She punched him in the arm, making him wince, as the stranger looked on with amusement.

"Alright. What do you need?"

"Just a few hours."

The stranger smirked, misinterpreting his words. Not that Shikamaru minded; in all honesty, he could hardly bring himself to care.

"Wipe that grin off your face," Temari said. "It's not like _that_."

"Sure. It's cool. I understand it's awkward, doing this face to face. Usually doesn't happen."

"Pervert." She moved away to wait by the stairs, her smirk having been fully replaced by a scowl that made a tiny little line form between her brows.

The man showed his teeth as he handed Shikamaru his change. "She's hot."

"Is she?" He looked over at Temari, who rolled her eyes and concentrated on the ceiling. Attractive, for sure. She was one of those girls who were easily labeled hot but hardly ever labeled pretty. The complete opposite of Ino. Ino was beautiful, but this girl oozed sex appeal, especially in a still-damp shirt. "She is."

Handing him a key, the man nodded. "Natural blonde?"

"We'll see," Shikamaru whispered.

"Stop whispering about me and let's go. I want to sleep."

He bid his farewell and went after Temari, handing her the key to the room. "Ready?"

"I liked you better when you were mute."

"I thought I was stupid."

"You were both. And deaf."

When he turned the key and opened the door, the red and pink overwhelmed him immediately. He felt as if he'd walked into a gothic elementary school girl's room, the touches of black drowning the room in a dark glow. Or maybe it was the light, which was bright enough to allow people to walk around without bumping into something, but not bright enough to tell whether a woman was a natural blonde.

It was an unusually large room, and while he had no prior experience of love hotel rooms, after setting sight on this one, he was positive he never wanted to experience another love hotel room, period. Hello Kitty in bondage seemed to be the theme of this particular suite, images of the "innocent" kitty plastered over every wall. Even the lamp had the cartoon character assuming a most questionable position.

Temari flopped onto the bed without any hesitation. She spread her arms and breathed, ignoring Shikamaru completely as he stood at the doorway thoroughly disturbed by everything, especially the heart-shaped, velvet drenched bed.

"I'll take the bed," she declared as she rolled over onto her stomach.

He snorted as he sat on one of the chairs, trying very hard not to think about all the things the chair had seen (and participated in) since being put into the room. He watched as she propped herself on one elbow, hair threatening to burst from her ponytail. She raised an eyebrow and lowered the sleeve of her shirt to expose a bare shoulder.

"I know karate," she warned.

It took a lot of self-control to keep from laughing outright. "What does that mean?"

She sat up, shrugged. "Nothing. I'm just saying, I know karate."

"I'm not going to rape you."

"You couldn't, even if you wanted to."

"Trust me, I don't."

"Even if you did, you couldn't."

Oh, for the love of all that was good. He stood, fetched his wallet, and pulled out Ino's picture which he'd kept since their high school graduation. Stomping up to the side of the bed Temari occupied, he flashed it before her, waving it just for good measure.

"See that? She's why I wouldn't want to, _ever_."

Temari's mouth puckered as her nimble fingers took the picture out of his hands and observed it closer. "Wow, she's extremely pretty." She frowned a moment later, tilting the picture to catch the light. "Too pale and skinny, from what I can tell, though. Skinny girls aren't very attractive—nothing to hold when fucking, you know?"

He knew he was blushing. He felt all the heat rush to his face, flooding him a deep red he was sure she was going to point out and make fun of him for. "She's perfectly fine the way she is."

"Your girlfriend?"

What could he say? She was most definitely not his girlfriend. And if he said she wasn't, the scary woman would just question how much of a creep he was for having a girl's picture in his wallet.

"No." He threw the picture on the night table, light catching on the glossy surface, making Ino's smile look as if it were sparkling. "It doesn't matter."

Temari's eyebrows shot up, disappearing into the blunt bangs that covered her forehead. "Oh my God, she's the reason! She _dumped_ you."

"She didn't dump me," he spat back.

"You weren't even in the running? That's even more pathetic."

"She married my best friend."

Temari was silent. It was a good look on her. He wished she'd stay that way forever.

Shikamaru sat back in his chair, head resting on the edge, staring up at the grungy ceiling. Not very romantic for a sex room and even less comfortable for a bedroom. Still, it would have to do. He wanted to go to sleep, wish the entire day away, and hope that when he woke, he'd be in his lavish apartment in Tokyo, doing nothing, Ino's wedding still too far away—or better, not in the picture at all.

He didn't want to think about Ino, actually. He wanted to forget. Forget her wedding, forget the last few years of his life spent pining away after a woman who was in love with someone else.

"Why are you wallowing?"

He opened one eye to see Temari standing on the bed, staring right at him, scowl on her face. In the few seconds it had taken him to fall back into terrible despair, she had unwound her hair, which looked surprisingly sleek as it gathered around her shoulders and framed her face very nicely, softening the harsh edges of her angular face.

"What?"

"Why are you sitting there, feeling sorry for yourself?"

"Did you not hear me? I said that she married my best friend."

"Is she dead?"

"What? No—"

She jumped down and stomped her way up to him. "Then stop wallowing. Stop grieving. She's just a woman. Not even that attractive." She glanced at the picture. "Okay, she's extremely attractive. But way too skinny. Trust me, you want a woman with curves. And she doesn't look like she has any."

"Look—"

"Stop acting like a baby. Look at yourself. You're a mess."

"Who the fuck—"

She grabbed his arm and pulled him up with a force he would have never suspected her of having. Then again, he shouldn't have been surprised. Everything about her reeked "badass" and "trouble." She took his face in her hands and led him to the floor length mirror by the door.

"Look at you. You're a decently attractive man who's like, in high school?"

"I'm twenty-three."

"You haven't even reached twenty-five yet. You've got your whole life ahead of you. Why are you sitting here, crying your little eyes out for a girl you never even had? There are plenty more fish in the sea. Fuck fish, there is plenty of other shit in the sea if you don't want fish. Plastic bottles, seaweed, sunken treasure. Have your fucking pick."

"Is this supposed to make me feel better? Because it isn't working."

She left him for a moment to retrieve the picture from the night table. She handed it to him. "Burn it."

"_What_?"

"You really are deaf. I said, burn it. Get rid of the picture. Holding on to it will only make you more miserable."

"You don't know what you're talking about."

Temari's eyes—_he'd never known someone to have such green eyes_—bore straight into his and held him in place with her stare. "Fine," she said, moving away from him, back to the bed she had claimed in her name. "Have it your way. Be miserable. But don't sit here in my space and fill it with your negativity. I can only handle my own pessimism." She threw herself down, drew the covers around her, and turned away from him.

He stared at the lump that was her figure for a long time. Glancing down, he saw he still held Ino's picture, a perfect grin reflecting right back at him, a grin that had never, not once, been for him. Suddenly, full of determination, he went into the bathroom, rummaged for the lighter in his pocket, found it, and set the picture ablaze. With some fascination, he watched as the edges melted away, before throwing it into the sink to burn.

When he came out, Temari's eyes were open. She lifted an eyebrow.

"Feel better?"

"Yeah."

She shrugged, the movement awkward, and closed her eyes. "Told you. What's your name, anyway? You know mine."

"Shikamaru."

"Good night, Shikamaru. And I swear: try anything, and I will fucking break your neck."

He knew she was telling the truth.

When he took his seat again, he sat back and let sleep take him, the ache in his heart lifting just a bit.

* * *

AN: Hey everyone! Sorry for such a late update. I'm back at school so I just got time to finish this chapter up and edit it. Please, please, PLEASE review! You have no idea how much it gets me going. And please read my other story, How the Prince Met the Girl.

I apologize for the shameless tooting!

Be back soon with another update! And thank you everyone for your continuous support!


	4. Fourth Meeting

**Fourth Meeting**

Shikamaru awoke to the sounds of someone using expletives in what he was sure were four different languages. Momentarily confused, he looked around the room; images of Hello Kitty in all types of questionable positions only made the memories of the night before more difficult to recollect. They scampered away from him, hiding behind mental crevices and cracks. He figured there was a reason _why_ he'd repress them.

Something in his pocket vibrated. He dug his hands inside and retrieved his phone, an unknown number flashing on the screen. He answered.

"What?"

"_We're calling for Temari. We wanted to inform her that her bags have arrived at the Osaka station._" At that, the other end hung up, leaving Shikamaru even more thoroughly confused. He had a terrible feeling that he should have remembered something vitally important. But he didn't.

He yawned as he stretched, catching a glimpse of the watch on his wrist. Ten AM. Too early for him on a weekend. That explained the fogginess in his mind, the blanket that refused to be lifted, which rarely occurred and only during the instances he'd let his friends, especially Ino, talk him into drinking.

At the thought of Ino, the blanket wrapped itself tighter around his brain, making any coherent thought even more impossible. He smacked his lips, felt his tongue laden with the guck of a night's sleep, stood, and headed towards what he assumed was the bathroom. Too sleepy to take notice of the sounds that came from the other side of the door, he wrenched it open.

And suddenly all the memories he'd repressed flooded his brain as he stood staring at a very naked Temari.

He couldn't help it when he said, "So you _are_ a natural blonde."

And he was very sure she couldn't help it when her fist connected with his jaw.

He waited for Temari to finish using the bathroom as he nursed his swollen, probably disconnected, aching jaw with a damp cloth. He moved his mouth experimentally and winced at the pain.

Who knew girls could hit that hard?

He was lucky she hadn't used any karate moves. After that little display of strength, he had absolutely no doubt in his mind that she had studied the martial art—and very well.

She stormed out of the bathroom clad only in a towel, a brush in one hand and clumps of blonde hair in another. She glared at him, eyes narrowed pinpoints of boiling anger.

"Why did you do that?"

He moved his jaw again, testing his ability to speak. "Trust me, I didn't do it on purpose. I was too sleepy to notice someone was in it."

She was unconvinced. "Right."

He shrugged. Truth was, he couldn't care if she believed him or not. He was starting to remember the wedding he had witnessed, the ache in his chest returning with a vengeance. No amount of arguing with a half-naked woman, no matter how hot she was, was going to distract him.

It seemed she didn't really care if she believed him or not, either. She harrumphed and began to attack her hair with the brush, trying to detangle the knots in her hair.

"Don't just stand there," she said, pausing for a moment. "At some point, this towel is going to fall right off and you're going to get caught staring again, and then I really am going to have to kill you."

She was right. Shikamaru took her advice and went into the bathroom to get cleaned up and get as far away from her as possible without looking like he was trying to run away. Even though really, he _was_ trying to run away.

The bathroom was as foggy as his brain had been only minutes before. Not bothering to check himself in the mirror, he ran the shower, climbed in, and let the cascading water drench him as he let his mind go.

Ino. What was she doing now? On her honeymoon with his best friend, probably having morning sex while waiting for room service to show up with a disgustingly large breakfast to feed the three stomachs Chouji had. At the thought, Shikamaru grimaced, partly because he felt terrible for thinking so badly of his greatest friend and partly because he meant every word.

He didn't want to dwell on it anymore. In fact, he wanted to stop thinking about Ino as much as he could. Burning her picture was the first step in healing.

Yeah, right. What a load of shit. He loved the woman; people didn't just _stop_ loving people because they wanted to. Marrying someone else was a good enough reason to stop loving her, but then again, that wasn't working out well, either.

"Fuck," he said, scrubbing his skin with the soap he hoped Temari had opened earlier and wasn't just something left over by previous visitors. "Fuck. Fuck."

What else was part of the healing process? Crying? Punching things? Rebounds? Sleeping with other women? Drinking the misery away?

Acceptance.

There was a loud pounding on the door and then Temari's voice, "Get out. We have to go get my shit from the station. Stop fucking moping."

He stopped fucking moping.

* * *

"Where are we having breakfast?"

Temari, he realized, asked questions to grate his nerves. She spoke, in general, to grate his nerves. Much of her actions since he'd met her had all been to grate his nerves. Of that, he was sure. There was no possible, conceivable way that there could be another explanation for why she always seemed to smirk at him, suggest vulgar things, and want to make him punch himself in the face, repeatedly.

"_We_ aren't having anything."

"Fine. Guess you're treating me to lunch."

"All I'm going to do is get your stuff back and make sure you're on your way to wherever it is you're going."

"Fukuoka. And if I remember correctly, I threatened your manhood or life or something if you didn't accompany me on my way."

They were crossing a busy intersection at that point but that didn't stop him from standing right in the middle and glaring at her with all the intensity he could muster at such an early time in the day. Which, to be honest, wasn't much. Intensity, that is.

"I'm not going anywhere."

She kept walking as she said over her shoulder, "I'd start walking if I were you. Japanese drivers are far from the most patient."

"I'm not moving."

"Suit yourself. The only person who is going to be in any pain is you. I know how to get to the station."

The pedestrian crossing light began to flash red, warning Shikamaru that he had only a few seconds to make it across.

Killing himself would only please Temari. So he crossed as quickly as his two legs could carry him, which took as long as it did for the lights to stop flashing. Drivers began honking their horns at him, making his sour mood turn downright foul.

The station was a lot further than he remembered it being. Of course, the walk from the station to the love hotel with a loud woman in a white, drenched shirt following his heels probably made him walk a lot faster than he was used to.

Finally, they reached the station. Temari didn't utter a word as she stalked past him and through the double doors. She didn't pause to check if he was heading inside with her, and Shikamaru was perfectly content with that. When he was sure she was safely inside and could no longer see him even if she turned around, he spun on his heels and headed straight to the lonely bench in the middle of the sidewalk, conveniently placed there for lonely souls like him to find.

Peace and quiet. He didn't even remember what those two words meant. Peace had left him the moment he'd seen the giant ring on Ino's finger, and quiet had disappeared when he had the misfortune of sitting in Temari's seat on the train station.

It appeared that Shikamaru's miserable status in life was all because of the female breed of the human species.

Just his luck.

He _would_ be the one to somehow land some crazy woman (probably a feminist) that followed him around and made his life miserable. Should have figured it out when one of his best friends was a loud, obnoxious, vain, shallow blonde stick of a girl; when his first chess opponent had been some eleven year old girl from Osaka who was so vulgar she acted as if she'd had dirt for food; when the love of his life turned out to be a woman who could never return the sentiment because her heart belonged to another. Actually, he should have thrown in his cards when he was old enough to understand that yelling and ordering others wasn't the only way a mother could show her son how much she loved him.

It wasn't fair. He wasn't a bad guy; sure, he was lazy and nonchalant about things he shouldn't be nonchalant about; and he had a really bad habit of picking naps over chores and ditching school over graduating top of his class; and maybe a tad bit cocky and chauvinistic. But he wasn't terrible. In fact, he was actually a really nice guy. He was a loyal friend, disgustingly smart, kind and considerate, a good role model when he wasn't cutting class or playing hooky at work.

So what had he done to deserve everything that had happened to him so far?

"You don't even try to run away very far. You're really bad at this."

Shikamaru was only mildly surprised to hear Temari's voice. He felt her take a seat beside him, the heat from her body oddly comforting.

"I don't bother trying. Goes against my principles."

"All I've figured out about you is that you're a lazy good-for-nothing. And you're in love with someone who doesn't love you—but that makes up about half the world's population anyway, so I don't really want to rely on that as an accurate description of you."

He couldn't help the sigh that escaped his mouth. "Did you come back just to bother me?"

Temari nodded. He heard it, even as he still refused to look at her. "That's right. Couldn't get enough of your brooding, taciturn disposition or that permanent little line between your eyebrows."

"Why are you going to Fukuoka?"

"My family lives there," she answered easily.

"You don't seem like a country bumpkin."

She laughed. It was a surprisingly musical sound, like the bell of an old bike, rusted but still working properly. "I'm not. And you don't seem like a genius, but you are."

"How do you know?"

"I know a lot of things."

"You're really aggravating."

"So are you." She was silent, allowing Shikamaru a moment of reprieve to stare at the clouds that were far better off than he was, drifting off at their own pace, no unrequited love to hinder their path. Then,

"You're going to find someone else to love again."

He surprised himself when he answered, "Not like Ino, I won't."

She sighed, clearly exasperated, but obviously trying to mean well. "No, probably not. But you'll love them in a different way and they will love you, and sometimes, that's even better."

"Have you ever been in love?" he asked, in an effort to distract her and change the subject. He dared himself to turn his head.

She wasn't looking at him. Instead, her eyes were focused on something far beyond the horizon, something invisible to him and the crowds that were starting to rush by them. "No. Not yet." She stood suddenly and blocked the view of the sky as she positioned herself in front of him, staring down her nose. "I've forgiven you."

"I didn't realize I needed to be forgiven."

"I've forgiven you for being such a little bitch. We can start on our way."

"Look—"

She rolled her eyes and grabbed his arm, short nails finding a way to dig into his skin. "You're going to try to get out of it but you won't. I'm going to irritate you until you concede into going with me all the way to Fukuoka. You'll say really idiotic things about women and I'll beat you up and you'll pretend that when I punch you, it hurts, and I'll know that you're actually turning black and blue. I'll teach you some things about life you never thought you would learn and you'll slowly get over Ino—that's her name, right?—and when you finally get rid of me, you'll be able to face another day without contemplating forty different ways of killing yourself."

He pried her fingers off him. "I'll pass."

"Aren't you glad I rarely take no for an answer and you rarely take an opportunity to fight back?"

"You've known me for a grand total of twenty-four hours."

"Don't flatter yourself," she said, forcing him to stand. "It took less than that to figure you out."

He didn't want to admit that there was a sense of excitement growing in his belly at the prospect of doing something he never thought he would. And he really didn't want to admit that he was glad he'd met her, and that he was going out into the unknown with her, this strange, magnificent girl with hair like straw and eyes that made the deepest ocean stir.

* * *

**AN:** Please, please, _please_ review! It strengthens my resolve to try and churn out a new chapter.

Also, due to NaNoWriMo, updating this November may not be happening... so please forgive me.

But I will be trying to finish this before I'm off to Korea and January, and if that doesn't happen, this story will DEFINITELY be finished before I go off on study abroad in Japan sometime in March.

LOVE YOU ALL, and thank you guys soooo much!


	5. Fifth Meeting

**Fifth Meeting**

"Let's eat."

Shikamaru rolled his eyes. He heard the sound of a rolling suitcase come to a halt.

"I'm serious. I'm hungry."

He shrugged. "Then you can go eat. I'm going home."

"Really? You're going to be this childish?"

He turned to look at Temari, who stood at the corner of the street with a hand on her hip and the other holding the suitcase behind her.

"You've threatened me."

She waved his claim away as if she were swatting away a pestering fly. "If you're going to be so upset about it, I'll treat you to lunch."

He watched her carefully for a moment to judge her intentions. He got nothing. "No thanks."

"It's my way of saying thank you for getting my luggage back."

"If you were really so thankful, you'd leave me alone."

She smirked and tilted her head. "Exactly, I'm _not_ so thankful. But I'm thankful enough."

"Still: no thanks."

Before he knew what was happening, she had latched onto his wrist with her free hand and dragged him behind her, just like she was dragging her suitcase.

"You're acting like you have much of a choice," she told him over her shoulder, as she lead the way to a ramen shop just a few feet away.

She was right; he _was_ acting as if he had much of a choice. And he really, really didn't. In that day of getting to know Temari, he already knew that much: if she wanted something, she would have it, whether he gave it up willingly or not.

The owner barely glanced at them as they entered the store and Temari led him all the way to the back, where a tiny booth stood. She slid into a seat before staring at him and bending his will and body to her command. He soon followed suit, sliding into the seat before her, and tried not to meet her gaze.

"Tch," she mumbled, picking up a menu. "Don't act like a man condemned."

"It's a pretty accurate description of my life at the moment."

"Just accept it, okay?"

"Accept what?"

"The lunch." She gestured at his side of the table. "I mean, if this is the way you act all the time, then no wonder that girl you love so much didn't marry you."

He was annoyed. He didn't really like being reminded of his romantic failures in the realm of Ino. "Let's talk about you, shall we?"

She shrugged. "I'm not as interesting." She went back to reading the menu.

"Your accent is strange."

She stopped reading to look at him. "Really."

"Are you really a country bumpkin? You don't seem like one"

"You've seemed to have analyzed me pretty well. You tell me."

He stared at her for a long moment. She didn't look very Japanese, but she didn't look very much anything else, either. What he had sworn to be dyed had actually been very real, so he couldn't doubt the blueness of her eyes or the tan of her skin.

"No idea."

She smiled, a ferocious looking grin that almost made him leap back out of his chair. "Good."

"Will you tell me?"

She shrugged. "What do you even want to know?" She raised a finger in the air to flag down a waiter, who leaped to her side so quickly Shikamaru bet the guy had been hiding in one of the cracks in the floor.

"Where are you from?"

"Earth."

It was extremely difficult to keep from rolling his eyes at everything she said. She was an extremely infuriating creature. "If you're not going to answer, you should just say so."

"See how annoying one-worded answers are?" She pointed her chopsticks at him. "Now you know how I feel."

He didn't want to admit that as stupid as their conversations he was actually extremely entertained.

"Where are you from?" he tried again.

"Seoul. You?" She put her chin in her hand as she leaned her elbow on the table.

He was genuinely surprised. "You're Korean?"

She glowered at him. "Don't make it sound like such a bad thing."

"Wait, really?"

"A fourth."

"What else?"

"Half Japanese and a fourth Swedish." She leaned away to allow the waiter to place their bowls on the table. "And you?"

"Full Japanese," he said, giving her a smirk.

"Cute. Where are you from?"

"Nara."

She hummed, clearly pleased. "It fits you, actually."

"You've been there?"

She nodded. She took a sip of her soup and grinned. "It's delicious."

The rest of the meal was silent. He took the opportunity to take better looks at her as she enjoyed her ramen, which she made a clear point of enjoying to the fullest.

Temari was unlike any woman he had met so far. Granted, most of the women he knew were friends of Ino's, but Temari was so unlike Ino, in almost every possible way, that he was almost convinced that Temari was a part of a whole different species. She didn't bother to appear delicate as she slurped her noodles and chugged her tea. When soup ran down the side of her mouth, she wiped it away with the back of her hand. A strand of her unruly hair fell out of its ponytail at the top of her head, and instead of tucking it back, she only blew it away and continued to eat. She didn't bother continuing the conversation; she didn't bother reprimanding him when she caught him staring at her; she didn't even give the waiter a second glance as he hovered nearby, watching her every move, refilling her cup of tea even before she could notice it had emptied.

He was absolutely terrified of her. He didn't like it when things went against their nature, or when he could barely understand them. Shikamaru was a man who prided himself in being able to understand and label most things accurately, and this girl was going against everything he knew about women.

But as terrified as he was (really, her earlier grin could scare a yakuza—hell, he wouldn't have been surprised if she _was _a yakuza), he was secretly a tiny little bit awed by her.

She finally broke away from her bowl to stare at his.

"Your soup is cold."

He nodded, lifting his spoon. "It's alright."

"Were you really staring at me this whole time?"

"Just trying to figure you out."

"And did you?"

"A little."

She laughed. "I should make it harder for you."

"Don't worry," he said, slurping some noodles. "You already are."

She seemed to appreciate the answer. She leaned back against her chair to watch him eat his now-cold lunch, with no intent to make him hurry.

Had he been eating with Ino, he would have had to forego the rest of his meal to make sure Ino didn't grow bored. Temari was so unlike her.

"What?"

Shikamaru paused with his noodles in midair. "Huh?"

"You're staring at me again."

"Sorry."

"It's okay. I know I'm really pretty."

He shook his head. "That's not it."

She frowned.

"I was thinking that if I were with Ino right now, she would have asked me to go."

Temari was silent for a long while, making Shikamaru worry he had compared her to the wrong person. Not that he could really blame her—all he'd been doing was moping about a girl who had broken his heart by choosing his best friend. He didn't think anyone would want to be compared to that type of person.

But then she said, "Look, I get it, you're in love and shit with some worthless floozy—"

"She's not a floozy. Who even uses the word 'floozy?'"

"—But not every girl is going to be like her. So, do yourself a favor and get on with the next step: stop comparing her to everything. She isn't perfect. Far from it. So accept that other women will have flaws and that she, too, had them."

"I know she did."

Temari pretended he didn't say anything; instead, she pushed his bowl forward, edging it closer to him, nodding at the chopsticks still poised in midair. He followed her advice and went back to eating.

It was silent as he finished, but just as he slurped the last of his soup,

"Where are we going next?"

Then it was ruined.

He didn't answer her immediately. He wanted to wait. A few hours. And hope she got the point.

Thankfully, his phone rang. It was a shrill ring tone, the only one he could hear when he was sleeping, and it vibrated violently in his pant pockets. When he finally dug it out of his pants and looked at the flashing name, he knew that he'd never been more thankful for his mother's incessant calling until that very moment when he needed her most.

"Mom?"

"_SHIKAMARU_!"

He jumped at the sound, moving his phone away from his ear. He could still hear his mother's voice clearly, even though it was a good two feet away from him.

Temari stared at the phone, curious.

"_Where the hell are you? I've been calling you for hours! Don't you check your phone? Ino called me to tell me you've gone missing. What the hell were you thinking? I know you're in love with her, but I was worried sick! We thought you might have committed—_"

"Mom. I'm alive."

"_Where are you_?"

"Don't worry, Mom."

"_Nara Shikamaru—_"

He winced. He hated when his mother used his entire name. It usually meant he was in big trouble and about to die.

"Mom, I'm kind of busy right now."

Temari pointed at him. "Why don't you just tell her you're near Nara and that you'll visit?"

"_Shikamaru? Who's with you? Is that a girl?_"

Shikamaru scowled at Temari, shaking his head curtly. She was going to mess things up if she spoke again.

Temari clearly understood what he was trying to get across

And ignored it.

"Go on," she prompted, nodding at the phone. "Just tell her you're going to visit. We're close to Nara, aren't we?"

He put the phone against his chest, trying to muffle the sound Temari was making so that his mother wouldn't hear her. "What do you think you're doing?"

Temari pointed at the phone. "Your mother thought you committed suicide. Don't you think she deserves a visit?"

"It's none of your business! Are you willing to go with me?" He frowned and glared accusingly at her. "Wait, you don't even seem like a family person—why are you encouraging this?"

She did not like the accusation. "Actually, I'm going to Fukuoka to visit my brothers, you little baby." She turned away from him to point her nose at the sky, ignoring him. "Tch, assuming things make an ass out of you, not me," she mumbled darkly.

Shikamaru went back to the phone.

"Mom?"

"_Are you with a girl, Shikamaru?_"

"Mom, look, can I call you—"

"_Shikamaru!_"

He sighed in defeat. No way to get around it now. "Yes. I'm with a girl."

"_Who is she? How old is she? Where is she from? Is she your girlfriend? Are you near Nara? Come home tonight. Do you need us to get you a ticket?_"

"Mom—"

"_Nara Shikamaru, I gave birth to you, and I can take it back_."

"Alright, alright, I'm going."

"_Bring the girl_."

Temari's eyes widened just as the line went dead.

"See what you did?" He thrust his hands into his pockets, unpleased with the way things had turned out. Just like his mother to call at the worst time possible. Ever. In the history of the world.

Temari shook her head. "Hey, hey, I didn't count on being invited."

"Then why did you _speak_?"

"Because you were being a dramatic little prick and made your mother worry about you."

He got up and looked at the door. "Come on," he told her. Temari didn't bother responding as she pulled out a few bills and laid them on the table without so much as a glance. He walked out the door and then began to head towards the train station. He didn't care whether Temari followed him or not—she could do whatever she pleased at that point. He hoped she'd get the hint and go away (but really, he hoped she didn't).

"You really are a drama queen."

She had caught up with him almost immediately.

"You are not as charming as you like to believe you are," he told her seriously.

She pushed him with her shoulder and laughed.

Temari obviously did not agree with him on that.

* * *

He was sure that Temari had just as much money as he did, but for some reason, she still made him pay for almost everything.

"Your family," she told him as she pushed her suitcase into the storage compartment above their seats.

It had been a long time since he had gone home. Three years, in fact. He wondered what his home looked like now—had his mother turned his bedroom into a workout room? A second study for his father, who barely used his first study? A second kitchen to compensate for the overcrowded pots and pans in the first one? It was highly unlikely, but he wondered if things were capable of changing so drastically. Things on his end did. He'd managed to become reclusive in one of the largest cities in the world and Ino had married their mutual best friend, forever ruining their triangle of friendship—and his heart. If things like that could happen, he had to wonder whether such a simple thing as moving around his old stuff could to happen, too.

"You're wallowing again," Temari informed him.

He knew she was trying to be nice, which was a lot more than he deserved for being as curt and uninteresting as he was being. A perfectly beautiful woman was being nice enough to give him lessons on love he would never have figured out anyway, and he wasn't even grateful. But he was tired of it. He didn't want to hear her keep being so pessimistically optimistic about his life when he, himself, couldn't be. He didn't need some blonde girl telling him that he was going to be okay when he knew very well that he wasn't going to be.

"Can't I just wallow?"

She gave him a blank stare. "No."

"Just leave me alone, will you?"

Temari twisted a strand of her curly hair around her finger. "Alright."

He didn't expect that. Shikamaru narrowed his eyes at her. "Is it really that easy?"

She shrugged and sat back in her chair, propping her feet on his lap, ignoring the look of incredulity (and disgust) he was sure was on his face. "You're right. I've never been in love. I don't know what it feels like to lose someone I intended to spend the rest of my life with. So go ahead. Wallow all you want. But stop doing it in public areas. No one wants to see you looking so absolutely miserable."

For some reason, it was oddly comforting to know that as tough as she was, Temari was also kind. Even as she snuggled into her seat and dug her heels into his inner thigh, completely ignoring how precariously close she was to his private area of maleness, she closed her eyes and allowed him the privacy he so desperately needed to think of Ino and to regret the choices he had made to land him where he was. And as the train began to move him closer to the place he had once called home, the further he moved away from the memories of Ino.

When he looked at Temari again, he felt as if his heart didn't ache as much. In fact, he could swear it felt light.

* * *

**AN:** Please review! It restores my Writer's HP bar. AND I NEED A FULL BAR BEFORE I CAN VENTURE ONTO THE NEXT CHAPTER |end threat.


	6. Sixth Meeting

**Sixth Meeting**

Walking up the driveway of his family home, Shikamaru was suddenly hit with the memories he had desperately tried to leave behind. He hadn't been back in years, and although he felt as if everything around him had changed, the hedges, the gravel, even the slightly faded numbers on the door were exactly the way he left it. Things hadn't really changed as much as he had thought they would. Standing before the door he knew so well, he felt as if was still the same silly boy that had left, chasing after the girl of his dreams, only to return empty handed.

The door opened suddenly, revealing his mother and father standing side-by-side, just the way he remembered leaving them the last time he'd seen them two years before. Only this time, his mother looked a combination of royally pissed-off and about-to-call-the-police-and-secret-service worried. His father, however, looked just about the same.

"Shikamaru!"

He was engulfed by the skinny arms of his mother, who brought him into the home without any difficulty.

"Oh my goodness, you don't know how worried I was—_why did you do it? I swear I can kill you myself_—I was going crazy, just ask your useless father."

"She was going crazy," his father said, voice as monotone as his son's.

"I mean—Ino called me all frantic, Chouji called his father to try and find you—where have you_ been_?"

"Traveling."

"Who's this?" His father peered behind Shikamaru at the girl standing perfectly still behind him.

He'd been hoping she was invisible. "This is—"

Temari stepped forward, bowing her head deeply. "Temari. Sabaku Temari. It's a pleasure to meet you."

Shikamaru's mother pushed him aside, eager to take a good look at the strange specimen that was Temari. He could see the gears in his mother's brain working rapidly, already more interested in her than she was in her son's wellbeing.

"This is my mother, Yoshino," he said, waving at his mother, who bowed her head curtly in response, "and this is my father, Shikaku."

"She's pretty," his father said, smiling at Temari. "Nice to meet you."

"Please, come inside," his mother said, moving aside and pulling Shikamaru behind her to give the blonde some space.

Growing up, he had found his home a huge pain in the ass. Everything was too far away from his room, especially the kitchen. He never ran (he couldn't exert the effort), but when he was forced to shuffle quickly from wherever he was to wherever his mother was, he'd end up slipping on the always-polished wood floors. There was marble and porcelain and chandeliers and gilded chairs and jewel-encrusted heirlooms, things most boys found uninteresting and Shikamaru found positively mind-numbing. He couldn't even be bothered to slide down the handrail of the staircase. Now, as he looked around the house he had so willingly left behind, he almost, kind of, somewhat missed it.

"You have a beautiful home," Temari said politely.

"Oh, stop it," his mother said, taking her arm and pulling her into the dining room. "Have you had dinner yet?"

Temari shook her head. "No, we came straight here."

"Let me go finish up in the kitchen," the older woman said, pushing Temari towards the large staircase Shikamaru remembered hating (how could there be so many damn _stairs_ to get to his room?). "You can set your things down in Shikamaru's room. I'll send someone up to take your things to the guest room later."

The blonde only nodded, then turned to look pointedly at him, expecting him to hurry along and take her to his room.

Even in his own damn home. She must have been a princess where she came from.

Shikamaru made a mental checklist of all the pictures he would have to hide (the one where he'd just lost both front teeth and his mother had decided that being frugal was the new thing so she cut his hair with a bowl as her guide; the one with Ino making bunny ears at him while he tried to eat some of Chouji's chips; and the famed baby picture) and where they were just as his feet carried him to the last room on the left, with the small deer cartoon etched into the wood. He paused with his hand on the doorknob, hesitating.

It had been two years since he'd last been in there. Had anything changed? He felt too old to be able to go back into that room—too different from the idealistic boy that had left in the hopes of getting the girl. Now, he stood facing the same door he hadn't thought of going back to, a changed man, broken hearted and defeated.

"Are you going to open the door or are you just going to stand there and be all nostalgic?" Temari quipped, prodding him with her index finger.

"Stand here and be nostalgic," he answered. Finally, he sighed (to which he swore he could hear Temari roll her eyes) and turned the knob.

Time had stood still in his room. Although he was sure maids came in every week to dust the place off, it was all just the way he remembered it.

And he hated it.

Before he could do anything (like hide the incriminating evidence that his middle-school years were particularly vindictive), Temari swooped in, making a beeline towards the only picture he forgot he still had.

"You look really happy here," she noted once she had reached it and taken it into her delicate hand.

A part of him wanted to reach over and punch her in the face for touching the picture while another part of him wanted to pluck it out of her paws and throw it out the window to save his heart from the unexpected pain. It was the part of him that stood by and did nothing that won out in the end, however, and he watched as she turned the picture towards the fading light filtering through his large windows.

"This is Ino, right?"

He urged himself to walk towards her and look over her shoulder. She held a small, wooden frame where a younger version of himself looked back, standing beside a grinning Ino and a satisfied Chouji, while his mentor stood behind them, seemingly proud.

"Is this your best friend?" she asked, pointing at Chouji. He was glad she didn't add 'the one that married Ino.'

"Yeah."

She looked at him. "Who's this?"

He felt the lump of grief rise in his throat, constricting his voice and making his tongue laden. Taking a huge gulp of air, he managed to croak, "My old teacher, Asuma."

Her eyes were unwavering as she stared at him for a long moment, the silence settling on him like a dead weight. It was only when she looked away that he could breathe again.

She placed the picture back in its proper place, as if it had never been moved. "He must have been a good teacher."

"Aren't you going to ask what happened to him?"

"No," she replied, making her way around his room. "You'd tell me if you wanted me to know."

For the bossy, intruding, complicated woman she was, the rare moments of clarity she showed him stumped him. He swore he had her figured out. But there she was, kind and all-knowing and devastatingly beautiful with the light catching the blonde of her hair and the glow of her skin.

And there he went, thinking things he shouldn't.

Temari stopped at his desk before throwing him another picture. "For a guy, you have a lot of pictures. I'd throw that one away—you have to let that girl go."

Shikamaru looked at the picture he'd taken of Ino for his photography class and winced, feeling slightly ashamed of himself and his stalker-like tendencies back in high school.

He didn't think twice as he made his way to the trash bin nor did he hesitate when he threw the picture away—frame and all. It wasn't until he could feel Temari's eyes boring holes into his body that he realized what he had done.

He'd felt nothing. His heart hadn't faltered, his breath hadn't hitched, he hadn't had a small breakdown or the pang of unrequited love.

She offered him a sincere smile, the light of it reaching her eyes and sending them ablaze with a feeling he didn't dare recognize. "Good job."

Never before had Shikamaru felt prouder. Not when Asuma had declared him the smartest person he knew, not when Ino had hugged him for winning the chess competition, not when Chouji had given him a birthday card that declared him as the greatest friend in the world. It was there, on that summer day, with the blonde foreign beauty standing by his desk with the strap of her dress hanging off her shoulder and Ino's picture in the trash, that Shikamaru felt that he had finally achieved something spectacular in his life.

He had no doubt that he really _would_ survive his broken heart.

* * *

Dinner, however, was a different story. And with his mother, it was completely impossible to survive.

It was silent and awkward. His mother had pulled out the most expensive dishes without so much as a nod of approval from Temari, who sat in the private dining room looking unimpressed. His father snickered every time his mother attempted to explain the cutlery rules only to have Temari already using the appropriate utensil. Leaving Shikamaru to receive every glare his mother intended to send to Temari but didn't.

"So, tell me," his mother began, her eyes on Temari as the blonde picked at a piece of marinated beef, "where are you planning on taking my son?"

It was usually the norm for parents to ask probing questions of the significant other. He saw it in dramas. Only he figured that it was the norm for parents of a female and not a perfectly grown man who had moved out on his own at the age of eighteen and didn't need his mother digging into his personal life, which had no material worth digging into.

"Shikamaru was nice enough to offer to accompany me all the way home."

"Where is home?" Yoshino asked.

The blonde girl's smile became strained. "Fukuoka."

"All the way in Fukuoka?" His mother was obviously unpleased. She cocked her head to the side. "Your family lives there?"

"Yes, my two brothers." The hitch in her voice was almost impossible to detect—but Shikamaru heard it, even though his parents didn't notice.

"But what of your parents?"

Temari visibly bristled, hand dropping to the table. Shikamaru had the sudden feeling his mother was intruding on a private matter that should not be intruding upon.

"Mom—" he tried to warn

"My mother is in Tsushima. My father lives in Tokyo. My brothers still live in the family home."

Yoshino's mouth opened, preparing to say something else, but Shikamaru stopped her. "Mom, stop interrogating her."

"I'm just curious." She eyed the blonde again. "Are you and my son having sex?"

Temari turned to him, lifting an eyebrow. "Do you want to answer that?"

"I would be perfectly fine if you two were having sex—at least I'd know he was _over_ Ino and—"

Shikamaru groaned. There she went again, talking about Ino and their history together (or lack of, whatever).

"Ino is a great girl, don't get me wrong," Yoshino continued. "But she was never meant to be with Shikamaru; he just couldn't accept it."

He rolled his eyes. He wouldn't have minded if a herd of deer came stampeding through his living room and trampled him to death.

His father was aware of the inner turmoil—not that Shikamaru had any reason to believe that his discomfort and wish for a slow and painful death was not written very clearly on his face. The older man watched him, turned to his wife, and put a calming hand on her knee to get her to stop speaking.

"Leave them alone, honey."

Never before had he seen his mother listen to anyone but her own inner-voices. But at his father's words, she quieted, throwing the blonde an apologetic glance before moving on to the next topic of discussion.

As they finished eating and his mother stood to take their plates, Temari followed suit. "Allow me," she said politely, taking the plates gently out of his mother's hands.

"Why, thank you," his mother said. They went into the kitchen, leaving his father and him alone.

"She's really pretty," his father said, standing and waiting for Shikamaru to do the same. He led Shikamaru into the living room.

"If that's what you like," Shikamaru grumbled.

"She's your girlfriend, isn't she?"

"No," Shikamaru deadpanned, falling onto one of the couches and sighing deeply. "I met her when I tried to kill myself."

"That's nice."

"Yeah. She's annoying."

"They usually are."

"You're not helping."

His father nodded, taking a seat on his favorite recliner, propping his legs up and placing his hands behind his head, the same exact position Shikamaru had taken. "Shikamaru, the only thing I can tell you is that I'm glad you're back."

"Really?"

"No. Actually, the one thing I can tell you is something you won't appreciate."

"What, that Ino wasn't for me?"

"Exactly. Shikamaru, Nara men never marry Ino-kind of girls. We need real women. Strong, loud, bossy women."

"Just because you married Mom—"

A slipper landed on his face, but Shikamaru didn't bother moving it as his father spoke, "Listen, kid. Ino was not the woman of your dreams. If you trust your old man in anything, trust me on that."

"As long as you don't say women like Temari are, I'll take your word for it."

His father didn't speak again.

When Shikamaru lifted his head to question his old man's silence, he saw that the man had fallen asleep, mouth open, tiny snores filling the air.

Typical.

His father always did fall asleep at the most inopportune moments, especially when imparting wise words to his only son.

* * *

Shikamaru wasn't surprised when his bedroom door creaked open and Temari came in, wearing a practically useless nightshirt that left nothing to the imagination. And since Shikamaru was, ultimately, a man attracted to women, he felt incredibly uncomfortable as she closed the door behind her and neared his bed.

"Your mother just spent the last two hours trying to convince me to marry you. By the way, she thinks we're having sex."

"I tried to warn you."

Her response was a noise at the back of her throat, which he assumed was her way of admitting that she was wrong and he was right. That was enough to give him a sense of satisfaction and triumph.

A feeling that was dashed when she turned to him again, this time with a mischievous glint reflecting in her eyes. "So, are we seeing each other?" The sound of her voice paired with the lack of clothing she wore made the tiny hairs on his arm raise on end while most of his blood made its way down to a place he wanted desperately to _stop growing_.

"Hell no."

"Don't sound so displeased. I'm a wonderful girlfriend."

"I'm sure."

"I'm a good kisser, too."

He stared at the ceiling. "For some reason, I feel as if that's to be expected."

Her voice dropped its silkiness and turned into a growl. "Are you trying to imply something?"

He shrugged. "Not at all. I didn't know your father lived in Tokyo."

Yeah, that was it. Change the subject. Resourceful.

The bed shifted slightly as she sat down. "You never asked."

He struggled to keep his eyes glued to the ceiling. "Which is all you do."

"I want answers and can't read your mind."

"You should try minding your business." He gave in and snuck a peek at her, finding the blonde with her eyes closed.

She cracked one eye open. "You entered my life so you are my business."

He stared at her. "That is not proper logic."

She bobbed her head and furrowed her eyebrows. "And I don't care. Your family seems nice."

He made a sound of something dying and hoped she would stop speaking.

"They seem to really care about you."

Something in her voice made him turn to look at her, his eyes searching for whatever emotion had been laced in her words. But he didn't have to be a genius to figure things out.

He was a genius, though. And so he knew that Temari, despite all appearances, was jealous.

So instead of arguing with her, instead of sighing in defeat and commenting about how annoying she was, instead of pretending she hadn't said a word, he nodded in agreement and said,

"Yeah, they do."

She yawned, long fingers hiding her mouth. "Will you show me where my room is? Your mother told me to have you take me."

He groaned, silently urging her not to look down as he stood out of bed slowly, glad he'd worn his large sweats to bed.

He took her to the room beside his. Reaching a hand around the frame of the door to flick on the lights, he gestured towards the room. "This was Ino's favorite room to stay in."

Temari snorted in disgust as she laid on the bed and spread her arms. "God, does she have awful taste."

He nodded. "God awful taste."

As he closed the door, he heard her call, "And I know I'm really beautiful, but you have to have some self-control. We're going to be traveling together. Can't have you getting excited over seeing my thighs."

Instead of grumbling mean things or remarking about how much he hated her, Shikamaru laughed.

He couldn't help but agree with her.

* * *

**AN:** I KNOW I SUCK AT UPDATING BUT I HAD FINALS AND THEN I WENT TO KOREA AND I'VE BEEN BUSY AND I JUST GOT BACK AND I'M MAKING A WEBSITE FOR MY CLASS AND I SUCK SO

JUST REVIEW AND DON'T HATE ME. :( :( :(

(Since I'm not taking any classes til I go on study abroad in March, I have all of February to write and update. So if you leave me nice reviews telling me you don't hate me and are still reading, I might be able to update more. If you do, however, hate me and have stopped reading... wah.)


	7. Seventh Meeting

**Seventh Meeting**

Shikamaru was not awoken by the shrill sound of his mother's voice nor the sharp stare that was Temari's most valuable weapon. There was no streaming sun or any chirping birds filling the air with their sweet music. No, Shikamaru was awoken by the sweet smell of breakfast wafting into his room and the loud, uninhibited grumbling of his empty stomach.

He blinked groggily; rubbing the sleep out of his eyes with the back of his hands, uncaring of the digital clock that informed him it was only 9:45AM. He lifted the covers to check on _his_ most valuable weapon and finding it perfectly limp, rolled out of bed and pulled on the nearest shirt he could find (which he hoped was somewhat clean).

Downstairs, he found Temari sitting at the island counter, peeling a mango with practiced ease, as if she'd been doing it for years. Still clad in her less-than-proper nightgown, he felt himself grow increasingly uncomfortable and sought refuge behind the open refrigerator door as his mother rummaged inside for orange juice.

"You're awake," Temari noted dully. He could see the hint of a smirk working its way onto her lips. She had probably seen the lower part of his body respond the only way it knew how at the sight of her.

"I was just about to send Temari to wake you. Did you happen to see if your father is awake?"

Shikamaru didn't bother answering. If the man was not asleep and had yet to come down to breakfast, it was safe to assume that he was doing it on purpose.

His mother continued shifting through the contents of the fridge. When she straightened, she had a carton of juice in one hand and yogurt in another.

"That's a filling breakfast you've got there, Mom."

She rolled her eyes at him and set the things down on the counter, plucking the mangoes out of Temari's hands. "Don't bother yourself, dear. Let me do it."

Temari did not argue. Either she knew better or she didn't want to put in any effort. Shikamaru couldn't figure out which.

He took the orange juice his mother handed to him and took a large swig, ignoring the taste as it combined with his un-brushed teeth. His mother clicked her tongue in disapproval of him, knowing exactly why he twisted his mouth in disgust.

She didn't say anything, however, and instead turned to begin her second round of questioning Temari.

"So, Temari, you've never mentioned what you do."

This quirked Shikamaru's interest. He knew very little about the nosy woman he'd encountered on the train. All he'd learned was her parents were probably divorced, she had brothers, and she was a country bumpkin. Even though he didn't want to admit it, least of all to himself, least of all to the damn woman, he was genuinely curious about her. He gravitated towards her, drawn in by her strength.

He shook his head. Gross.

The blonde raised an eyebrow at Yoshino. "I work?"

His mother nodded and he could see the slight irritation she felt cross her face before it was completely pleasant and mother-like again. "Really? Where? What do you do there?"

She shrugged. "In an office. Nothing extravagant, really."

She did _not_ look like someone who worked in an office.

"As a secretary?" his mother continued to question.

Temari laughed but didn't answer.

Most people would just answer the stupid question. And while he had to admit that Temari was very far from most women, and most people in general, it started to slightly irritate _him_ that she didn't give a straight answer. What was so hard about saying, "I work as a secretary. I sometimes get coffee and make copies"?

"What company?" he found himself asking.

Her eyes doubled in size as they widened in surprise. "You really don't know?"

He was confused. He made a mental list of all the employees he knew back at his office and wondered if she was secretly a stalker of his who was completely in love with him after having glimpsed him from afar at the workplace. But as he ran down the three hundred odd people he vaguely recognized, he found she was not there.

Shikamaru half-expected his mother to question Temari's cryptic words. He turned to see her begin her crackdown, only to be confronted with the woman wearing a small smile, apparently satisfied.

"Temari tells me you guys are going to set off today."

"Did she, now?" He turned to look at her only to find a giant smile on her face and her eyes staring right down at his—

"I have to get to Fukuoka as soon as I can," Temari explained, quickly facing away from Shikamaru. "I don't trust trains much anymore, since the last few incidents that happened have left me a little sore."

_Those have been your fault_, Shikamaru thought bitterly, taking a seat as far from Temari as he could manage at the counter. His mother raised an eyebrow but didn't say a word as she set a bowl of freshly peeled fruits between him and the blonde woman.

"So has Shikamaru dated anyone else or has he just spent the majority of his life pining after Ino?"

He threw Temari what he hoped was the meanest scowl he could manage so early in the damn morning. Of course, her response was to flick her straw-like hair back, uncaring about what he thought at all.

Yoshino sighed heavily and leaned away from the stove she was working at. "Honestly, you're the first girl he's ever brought home besides Ino."

Temari placed her hand over her heart and bowed towards him. "I'm honored."

"You're the only girl he's ever really introduced us to. All the other girls—well, they've been just friends, haven't they?"

Shikamaru rolled his eyes. "Are we really going to discuss my lack of a love life at breakfast? It's not even ten in the morning yet."

"You'll have to tell her sometime, won't you?"

Temari nodded. "It's true."

He put his head in his hands and wished for the house to set on fire with him in it. "We're not dating, Mom."

Chopsticks clattered around before she responded, "Could have fooled me. I didn't think you were."

Suddenly, he felt a body near him, heat rising in waves. Then, he heard Temari's voice, low enough only for him to hear, "Most guys would kill to be in your shoes."

"Both of you should start eating the fruits before they go bad," Yoshino called.

Raising his head, he found the blonde woman smiling sweetly at him. He was pretty sure he caught sight of venom dripping from her canines.

Temari reached for a peeled green apple and Shikamaru felt his breath catch and his jaw fall open. He watched her take the most sensual and downright naughty bite out of the most unappealing and least sexually attractive fruit. He could never, ever, _ever_ look at an apple the same way again.

His eyes darted to watch her eyes, only to find them closed and savoring the taste as juice trickled out of her mouth and down her chin.

She had absolutely _no_ idea.

Here Shikamaru was, completely broken hearted about the girl of his dreams marrying his best friend. Sure, he'd given Chouji permission and reassured the couple that he was happy _they_ were happy (which was mostly true except for the ache of his shattering vital organ), but it didn't stop the painful pangs in his chest. He'd been swearing for the past few days that he would never fall out of love with Ino, discounting all the other possibly beautiful women that inhabited the world.

And now, he stared at the most exquisite, possibly dangerous, creature and all he could think about was getting out of his house and into a love hotel with the sole purpose of getting her under him in the worst possible way.

That, Shikamaru decided, was not romantic. Nor acceptable.

Temari's voice suddenly cut through his inner ramblings. "Why are you glaring at me?" She looked mildly irritated, holding a new perfectly-cut piece of mango, her fingers slick with glistening fruit juice. His mind twisted the image and he imagined her fingers slick with—

"_God_," Shikamaru exhaled, dropping out of his seat and hurrying away from the kitchen.

He ignored his mother as she called after him. He turned his head only long enough to see Temari grinning, licking her fingers clean, and reaching for yet another bite.

It was time to take a shower.

An extremely long and _cold_ shower.

* * *

Shikamaru did not argue with his mother as she handed him a duffle bag loaded with things he probably didn't need. Shikaku stood by to watch, leaning casually against the wall, with one hand on his wife's shoulders as she turned to thrust food into Temari's arms.

"You guys should have stayed longer," his mother berated, handing him the bread that couldn't fit into Temari's hands. From the corner of his eye, he could see Temari swaying with the weight of cheese, bread, juice, and pastries as she tried to keep a hold on them. "I would've made you your favorite, Shikamaru."

He shrugged, tucking the loaf of bread into his duffle bag. A pack of condoms peeked out from underneath the pairs of underwear his mother had packed. "I promised to take Temari home and she needs to get there soon." _For my sake_, he thought inwardly, casting the girl a narrowed glare that she seemed perfectly content in ignoring.

"Thank you so much," Temari said, bowing her head deeply. "We are so grateful for all you've done for us."

Shikamaru took it as the cue to leave, heading out the door and pausing to look back and take in the image of his parents standing before his childhood home. He reasoned it would be a few years before he would be back, anyway, so it was totally acceptable for him to be emotional and look back in longing and whatever it was he felt.

"Of course, Temari." Yoshino leaned forward and gave the blonde a hug that was usually reserved for old friends and what his mother termed "Future Daughters-in-Law." No women had ever fallen into that category and he had very little doubt to which category his mother had placed Temari in.

"And Shikamaru, make sure to bring Temari back to visit soon."

Which translated to, "I better see her more often or I am going to personally end you and your ability to fornicate with any woman, ever."

As the two began to walk away, Shikamaru heard hurried footsteps. Turning, he found his father walking quickly (by Nara standards( towards him and Temari, something jingling in his hands.

He stopped a few feet away and threw it at Shikamaru. Automatically, Shikamaru caught it and felt the heaviness of car keys in his palm.

"Take the car. We've got four more and your mother hates it."

And then he walked away, hands in his pockets.

Shikamaru looked down at his hand, finding the old Porsche keys his father had once coveted.

"A Porsche," Temari whistled, looking over his shoulder. She began to walk down the sidewalk, rolling her suitcase with very little care in the world. "Are you going to go get it?" she called after him.

He watched the sway of her hips, took in the curve of her thighs. He felt her words wash over him and blanket him in heat. The broken pieces of his heart somehow managed to skip a beat.

If he got the car now, they would make it to Fukuoka in a matter of days with very little problem, with him losing just a few days of sleep and her glaring at him when he chose the wrong radio station to listen to.

Catching up to her was easy. He fell into step beside her, duffle bag thrown over his shoulder, keys hidden away inside.

"I haven't lost my luggage yet," he answered.

Temari flashed him a grin, showing all her teeth.

* * *

**AN: **I'm in Japan right now and, as I'm sure you have all heard, the earthquake and nuclear plant explosions have really shaken up the country. Sorry for the very late update but study abroad preparations hit me full force and then, after landing, didn't really have the chance to even get online to let my parents know I was safe. Hopefully, you gys can forgive me.

And yeah, Japan is just as weird as it's made out to be sometimes. I'm at an internet café called Yeast Paradise. Yeah, I know. I know.


	8. Eighth Meeting

**Eighth Meeting**

"I feel terribly sorry for you."

He glared at her from his perch on the block of hay (where the hay had come from was completely beyond his reasoning) as the truck they rode bumped along the highway. The green signs informed him they were almost to Osaka.

The reason they were stuck on the back of a truck full of hay instead of the shinkansen: they forgot to buy tickets, Temari assured him it didn't matter because she could, once again, convince the conductor to let them off and buy tickets while on the train, and all would be well. It turned out that his mother had somehow stolen his wallet in a conniving effort to "fix them up," as he later found out when he'd called his parents in a panic and his father had to explain the entire situation.

"And why are you gracing me with your pity?"

Temari looked regal; she crossed and uncrossed her legs so sinuously Shikamaru vaguely wondered whether she had any bones in her body. She flexed her foot, back and forth, back and forth, her brown shoes dangling from her big toe. She surveyed him with half-lidded eyes as she leaned back using one hand for support.

"You're obviously falling in love with me and disappointing you is going to break my heart."

Fortunately for Shikamaru, he had been neither consuming drink nor food at that precise moment, or else it would have spewed all over the front of her shirt. She probably would have been pissed about that. "You have _got_ to be kidding."

She shrugged. "I think it's pretty obvious." Her eyes darted away from him to glance at her fingernails.

"Really."

"You can't stop staring at me." She flicked her eyes up to look at him and arched one eyebrow at him, as if daring him to disagree.

"Have you seen what you wear?" He made a passing motion at her, drawing her attention to the purple mini skirt and the dangerously low-cut shirt she wore. The only reason the truck driver had even considered letting them ride in the back was because he'd found her leaning against the fender, her hands rubbing her feet slowly before traveling up the rest of her long legs. Shikamaru had sworn he'd seen a trickle of blood leak from the truck driver's nose. "No one else can stop staring, either."

She pretended not to hear him. She did that quite often, he noted. "You smile at me."

"It seems to be the safer option between laughing at you or acting like I don't care."

She didn't say another word. He closed his eyes, thankful for the moment of silence.

It was the middle of an intensely humid summer but the highway breeze was enough to cool the sweat along their temples. He enjoyed the open air, the odd comfort of the hay, the shining sun overhead—even if it was too bright for him to watch the clouds roll by. There was a sort of calm about the situation even with all the cars speeding past, a kind of peace he hadn't experienced in a long time. He couldn't even remember when he'd last trudged up a hill, lay underneath the shade of a tree, and watched the clouds form shapes of people and places.

Maybe this time in Osaka, he'd have a second to stop by the park, catch a few Z's, and enjoy the sky.

"Did you really want to kill yourself?"

Shikamaru could barely hear Temari, the loud roaring of the highway nearly deafening. He cracked one eye open and propped himself on one elbow to glance at her. She met his eyes unblinkingly.

He shrugged one shoulder. "No."

"Do you really love Ino that much?"

He prepared himself to say yes, of course, but the words caught in his throat. He wet his lips to speak, passing his tongue along his teeth, but his throat constricted.

Of course he loved Ino. Ino was perfect. She was beautiful, kind, smart, and hardworking. She wanted only the best for herself, for her family, and for her friends. What wasn't there to love about her? He knew, without a doubt, that there was no other woman like her, that he could never truly love another woman besides her. He'd met a lot of them and he'd never felt a vague inclination of attraction towards them, never felt his heart pull at the sight of them, never felt anything beside remote disinterest. But with Ino, the very thought of her being hurt or unhappy made his chest ache.

"It must be hard," Temari said, her nails scratching at the rope that held the haystack together, "to love someone so much."

Shikamaru didn't want to talk about Ino anymore. "Why are you going to Tsushima again?"

She looked up. Her eyes were devoid of emotion. "To see my mother."

He knew very little about Tsushima. In fact, all he knew was that it was a Japanese island somewhere between South Korea and Honshu. No one ever really went to Tsushima, unless they were desperate for a terribly boring vacation surrounded by shrines and graves.

Temari fell silent again. For the slightest moment, he considered questioning her further: what did her mother do in Tsushima, why was she living there, had she always lived there? But Temari had already moved on from the conversation, her head turned up to the sun, her hair illuminated by the fierce light.

He was almost glad that Temari carried only her bankcard and that there were no banks open on Sundays, rendering the card useless until the next day. Otherwise, they wouldn't have found themselves on the truck, the sun wouldn't have burned her cheeks a golden bronze, and the strap of her thin camisole wouldn't have fallen from her shoulder to reveal the thin sliver of a tan line. Instead, they would have been jostled back and forth on a train overrun with loud tourists, and considering what Temari wore, he'd have to save her from some guy trying to feel up her skirt.

He sighed and went to sleep.

* * *

Shikamaru was jolted awake by the truck sliding to a stop in front of a large steel building that stretched upwards and disappeared overhead, the top obscured by blinding sunlight. The truck driver appeared a few seconds later, helping Temari climb out with her suitcase. When it was Shikamaru's turn to attempt getting out, the truck driver disappeared in a huff, helping Temari pull her luggage onto the sidewalk and leaving Shikamaru to figure how to jump out of the truck with his dignity intact.

"Thanks," Shikamaru grumbled, rubbing an aching spot on his shoulder. He looked at the building and groaned. He was not looking forward to this.

A little ahead of him, Temari was giving the man a small bow of her head. "Thank you so much," she effused. "We greatly appreciate it."

She sounded like a politician, even if she didn't look like one.

The driver returned her gesture with a deep bow of his own, his wrinkled hands clasped behind him.

Shikamaru couldn't help lifting an eyebrow. He looked at the blonde woman from head to toe, trying to understand what was so greatly alluring about her, but found no answer. He'd admit she was particularly attractive, but that all went downhill the moment she opened her mouth.

The driver went back to his truck, turning back every other step to spare another look at Temari. When the truck finally drove away, Shikamaru turned to the woman, used his chin to point at the building, and led the way. She followed silently beside him, the wheels of her luggage clicking loudly on the pavement.

It had been years since he'd been there. He'd hated interning at the office during the summers, mostly because he'd be stuck inside doing mindlessly boring stuff he had very little interest in. Business wasn't enjoyable. He preferred lazing around, playing shougi, relaxing. But after relocating to Tokyo, he almost missed the slowness of Osaka enough to consider returning. But now…

He strode up to the reception desk, unable to recognize the woman who sat there, her eyes obscured by round glasses that sat at the top of her slim nose. Short strands of blonde hair stuck out of her ponytail, making her look frazzled. He wasn't surprised to find her there since Kurenai had left after the baby was due, but he couldn't help the disappointment that filled him. He would have liked to see Kurenai again.

"Excuse me, I need to see someone."

The woman coughed, startled, glasses catching the fluorescent lights above her and obscuring her eyes. She fumbled with her nameplate, her pen flying out of her hand as if propelled by an invisible force.

"W-who do you need?" She pushed her nameplate so far across the counter that it crashed near his feet.

Shikamaru knelt to pick it up. _Shiho_. That was a cute name. When he straightened, Temari was standing beside him, leaning her elbows on the granite counter while looking at the young receptionist with curiosity.

"Here you go," he said, placing the nameplate back on the counter, turning it give visitors a better look at her name.

Shiho stared at him for a long moment and then turned to Temari with a slight edge in her voice, "I'm helping someone right now, will you please wait in the seating area?"

Temari pursed her lips. She turned on her heels and stalked to where an area of straight-backed chairs stood near the entrance. She plopped down in the furthest chair and crossed her legs. Shikamaru tried to catch her eyes but she made it a point to look away, as if suddenly consumed by the revolving glass doors and the group of businessmen that hurried in and out of the building with their shoes clacking on the silver tiling.

He turned back to Shiho, who gave him a small smile. "I'm sorry, some people are just very rude."

He laughed and nodded. "I need you to call someone down here."

She picked up the reception phone dutifully. "Who is it?" she asked, looking at the list of extensions tacked carefully next to her computer screen.

"Chouji Akimichi."

The girl looked back at him, eyes narrowed. "And who is asking for him?"

"Shikamaru."

She nodded slowly and went back to the phone, entering the number. "Yes, Akimichi-san? A man is waiting for you in the lobby. He says his name is Shikama—"

"_Shikamaru?_" Chouji's voice was so loud even Shikamaru could hear it. "_Tell him to wait right there. I'm going to kill him_."

"Tell him to bring a lot of money," Shikamaru supplied. Shiho's mouth hung open in shock, the phone held a few inches away from her ear.

Tentatively, Shiho relayed the message. Chouji said something unintelligible before hanging up, leaving Shiho to stare at the phone in her hand.

Shikamaru looked back at Temari, who was watching him with narrowed eyes.

"Come on, troublesome woman," he called.

She didn't move.

He scowled and stalked to the elevators where Chouji was sure to pop out. It would be a few minutes considering Chouji now worked at the topmost floor, occupying Shikamaru's old office. There was probably a picture of the wedding sitting on the old desk, maybe in the same exact spot Shikamaru had placed their picture when he'd been there.

A few moments later, he caught sight of Chouji towering over all the other men that were pouring out of one of the elevators. His best friend barreled through, stopping only when he caught sight of Shikamaru.

"You _idiot_!" It took his best friend only two long strides to reach him and soon he was gathered in Chouji's arms. "We were worried sick. Ino was crying every single night and she refused to go on our honeymoon and I'm going to kill you."

"Good to see you, Chouji."

Chouji placed Shikamaru back on the ground, running large hands through his fiery red mane. The permanent redness on his cheeks was flushed darker than usual, making him look like a tomato. Not that Shikamaru would ever tell him that.

"I can't believe you pulled that shit, man."

"I was being a little melodramatic, I admit," Shikamaru said peevishly.

Chouji shook his head. For the first time, Shikamaru realized that there were tears in his friend's dark eyes. "Don't ever do that again."

A sudden sense of guilt washed through him. He hadn't thought about Chouji. He'd been too consumed with his feelings—Ino didn't love him, Ino preferred Chouji, Ino _loved_ Chouji—that he'd forgotten that Chouji, as much as he loved Ino, loved Shikamaru far more.

"I'm really sorry, Chouji."

Chouji shook his head. "I'm just glad you're alright."

Shikamaru nodded and pulled Chouji into another hug. His arms could barely wrap around the bigger man's frame. Everyone was sure to be watching them but that didn't stop him from burying his face in his friend's neck.

Finally, his friend pulled away, patting his back gingerly. Reaching in a back pocket, Chouji revealed an old wallet of Shikamaru's and placed it into his hands. "You know your mom called and told me not to lend you any money, right?"

Shikamaru grimaced. "I'm glad you like me more than you're scared of my mother."

"You're mother isn't as scary as you make her out to be."

Narrowing his eyes, Shikamaru looked around them. "Be careful she doesn't ever hear you say that."

"I'll treat you to some lunch, Shika. You look a little worse for wear."

"Actually…" Shikamaru searched for Temari, who still sat in her seat, watching him with her head cocked and her arms crossed over her chest. "Mind treating two people instead of just one?"

Shikamaru walked to Temari. She got up languidly, stretching her arms so far above her that her shirt rode up to reveal her taut stomach. When she straightened, she bent her head in greeting.

"Temari," she introduced herself.

"Ch-Chouji."

Shikamaru coughed. "I met her on the train in Tokyo. I'm taking her to Fukuoka."

Chouji nodded slowly, attempting to understand—not not that Shikamaru could even begin to explain. So, instead of trying, he pulled his friend along to their favorite barbeque place and hoped food would help distract Chouji from asking anything about Temari.

* * *

**AN**: I'm finally back… I think. Now that "How the Prince Met the Girl…" is finally finished (and is it crazy that I'm thinking of writing a sequel but sequels suck asdjkhfajksdf), I had some time (not really, it's 2AM, I just can't sleep) and decided to finish this chapter. Hopefully updates will be way more frequent now that I'm almost done with school and am preparing for the "real world." Or… maybe not. Anyway, hope you guys aren't all too furious with me. And if you are: here, have a cookie.

Just kidding. This is the internet. It is impossible for me to give you a cookie.

Please review!


	9. Ninth Meeting

**Ninth Meeting**

Their favorite barbecue place was located only a block away from the office, hidden below some stairs. Only those who frequented the area knew about the place, its existence hidden behind a giant advertisement that read "Grand Open 50%-30%!" in large, black letters that had been there since the mall opened three years prior. Shikamaru was sure it was illegal to have a highly flammable restaurant in the basement of a giant shopping center, but the food was delicious enough for him to forget sometimes.

The restaurant was small and familiar; they'd been going there since their high school days when they'd been first introduced to it by their favorite teacher, Asuma, before and after (and sometimes during) Ino's various diets, even for Chouji's bachelor party, which consisted mainly of drinking and eating as much barbecued meat as possible. It held a lot of memories for Shikamaru, warm moments from a time when he was still young and stupid and the only thing that mattered besides spending time with his friends was trying to graduate from school.

When Shikamaru turned to look back at Temari, she didn't seem too impressed with her mouth pressed into a thin line. Not that he cared. He wasn't trying to impress the girl. No. He was only mildly concerned that she wouldn't enjoy the food, that she'd be disappointed—

He shook himself and made it a point to glare at her, which earned him a scowl in return.

The interior was just as Shikamaru remembered; wooden furnishings, metal contraptions hanging overhead to filter out the smoke from the barbecue booths along the walls, rickety old benches, and young university student workers. The menus were still painted on the walls—though the prices were up a few hundred yen—and Shikamaru felt like he was back in high school, treating his friends out to an after school snack. Ino would always sit beside him as Chouji took up the other side of the booth, insisting he needed all the space he could get in order to truly enjoy the feast.

Shikamaru slid into his usual seat, Chouji doing the same across from him. Temari stood by and considered her options before sighing in defeat as she settled beside Shikamaru.

Temari and he were silent, awkwardly looking elsewhere instead of at each other. Temari glanced around the restaurant trying to figure out what she would order. Shikamaru pretended to consider a few of the yakitori specials despite knowin it would be Chouji's choice in the end. He peeked at the blonde girl from the corner of his eyes and found himself almost smiling.

Chouji was staring at Temari and Shikamaru couldn't fail to notice. A worry line formed between the man's dark red eyebrows, a finger scratching his chin in contemplation.

Temari must have felt the gaze because she shifted in her seat and cocked her head in question. "Yes?"

"You look really familiar," Chouji began. He shook his head. "I just can't place where I've seen you before."

She shrugged and went back to deciding her dish, giving Shikamaru the chance to observe her without being accused of being in love.

Now that Chouji said it, she _did_ look familiar. There was something about the set of her jaw, the color of her eyes, and he was sure he couldn't forget such a glimpse of her cleavage. He'd seen her before; he was sure of it.

"Did you go to Tokyo U?" Shikamaru asked her.

She shook her head. A smirk was pulling at the corner of her lips, completing her image of a self-satisfied woman. "Kansai."

He placed his hands on the table and drummed a rhythm with his long fingers but still the memory didn't come to him. It was going to bug him forever until he figured it out.

Chouji seemed to have moved on from the interrogation, yelling an "Excuse me!" to one of the waitresses as she hurried past them. When the woman returned to their table, the redhead quickly rattled off his choice of meats.

With their order gone to the back kitchen Chouji turned to his friend. "I suppose you don't want to spend the night at our place, right? I know Ino would want to see you—"

"No thanks," Shikamaru cut in. "No offense, but that might not be the greatest idea right now."

Temari was watching between them, her fingers running along the edge of the dark table following a long streak of damaged wood. But she didn't say anything and Shikamaru couldn't help but release a sigh of relief. He had to give it to her: she might have been the most positively annoying woman on the face of the planet, but at the very _least_, she was perceptive.

Thankfully, it didn't take long for the first plate of meat to arrive, followed by a mountain of lettuce, side dishes, and bowls of rice. Chouji set straight to work, using metal tongs to place the meat on the sizzling grill in the middle of the table, throwing some slices of onion on the side.

"So why Fukuoka?" Chouji asked, probably in an effort to distract himself from the cooking meat. He was ever so impatient at the sight of food, and there was nothing more frustrating for him than sizzling meat still too raw to consume.

"My brothers live there," Temari answered.

Chouji was momentarily unavailable as he flipped the meat to get both sides cooked to medium-rare perfection, so Shikamaru took the mantle of interrogator.

"What do they do?" To be honest, Shikamaru couldn't believe it had taken him so long to ask.

She placed a grain of rice on her tongue and he watched it disappear into her mouth, transfixed. He had to mentally kick himself to stop staring when she said, "They work at a company."

"What company?"

Another grain of rice. The pinkness of her tongue almost made all the blood in his body rush to his face. "Suna Enterprises."

He whistled. Suna Enterprises was one of Nara Inc.'s competitions and was controlled by a man with offices all over the world. He'd heard from his old man that the president was ruthless, that getting a job at Suna Enterprises held the same prestige as snagging a job any Fortune 500 company. Being Nara Inc.'s future president, Shikamaru had read up on all the other family-owned powerhouses in Japan, but there was very little he could remember about Suna Enterprises. It was an enigma, even in the business hemisphere of the Japanese world.

Well, now he was sure that she had never worked for his family. But he still couldn't shake off the feeling that he knew her. The familiarity of her eyes, the cockiness in the tilt of her head, the overconfident smile. He felt like he recognized them all.

Shikamaru was interrupted by Chouji's loud, "Finally!" The three then ate in silence, although it was occasionally punctuated by the sounds of Chouji's smacking lips and slurps of melon soda.

It was a little strange, sitting across his now-married best friend. He felt oddly at peace and comfortable in that moment, even though there was a perfect stranger sharing it with them. He'd been rather bitter about the whole marriage since the engagement, resentment bubbling in his stomach, hatred settling in his veins. Not that he really _hated_ Chouji, or even Ino, because he couldn't. But now, as he used his chopsticks to place the last piece of beef in Chouji's empty rice bowl, he knew that things would return to the way they were and that he could honestly say he was happy for his friends.

After Chouji paid the bill the three of them stood outside in the shade of the large shopping mall. Temari smoothed her skirt across her legs as Chouji and Shikamaru hovered a little away, their voices low.

"You sure I can't convince you to stay with us?" Chouji placed a large hand on Shikamaru's shoulder and squeezed.

"I'm alright, don't worry about me."

Chouji nodded. "That won't convince Ino, though."

"Tell her I'm happy for her. For both of you."

They parted ways, Chouji holding on for a moment longer than what was probably deemed socially acceptable. But Shikamaru didn't mind at all. When they parted, Chouji gave Temari a deep bow before turning away and walking back to Nara Inc.'s headquarters.

Shikamaru led the way to one of the only hotels he knew, geared towards foreign businessmen and women that frequented the area. Temari followed him easily, falling into step with him, ignoring the glares they received from other businessmen due to Temari's luggage taking up quite a bit of the sidewalk.

It wasn't until he passed by a convenience store window that he stopped. A man, eating his cup of instant noodles, was reading a magazine with a very interesting cover.

"What is it?" Temari asked. He could feel her glare at the back of his head but the words failed him.

Because there she was, right smack dab on the cover of a magazine. Glaring right back at him, clad in a dark blue suit beside two other boys dressed just like her. She looked a little younger, her hair a little shorter, her eyes more guarded. There was another picture of a man placed directly beside hers, with his blonde hair gelled back against his head and a frightening smile on his face.

"_Suna Enterprises' Sabaku Temari to Wed Weapons Genius Hidan—Japanese Business Takes Over the World"_ read the headline, and Shikamaru almost banged his head against the glass in realization of his stupidity.

"What are you even looking at?" Temari asked. In their reflection he could see her head trying to peek over his shoulder. He would have laughed if he could but he was still too stunned to say a word.

He turned. Temari took a few steps back, staring at him expectantly.

"You're Sabaku Temari."

She rolled her eyes. "I know."

"You're _the_ Sabaku Temari. From Suna Enterprises."

Her eyes widened slightly, the only indication that she was surprised. "What's your point?"

"You should have said something! You knew all along who I was!"

"You should have _asked_," she accused. "And I didn't know all along—just after your pathetic attempt at suicide."

"And you're getting married." He wasn't even sure why he was so upset, so insulted. Maybe it was a pride thing. He thought he was a pretty clever man. He knew that, because he had a MENSA certificate sitting in his room back at his parents' house that proved it. But it took him—what, four days?—to figure out that the woman he was traveling with was the infamous daughter of one of Japanese business's most successful entrepreneurs.

He stared at her as if he'd never really seen her before. Which he didn't, he supposed, because he'd been too wrapped up in his own self-pity to notice her. But now that he looked at her, _really_ looked at her, he could see the poise with which she held herself, the strength in her voice, the smugness of her upturned nose. She'd been trained by her father, and he'd trained her well.

"Come on," she ordered, taking his wrist in her only free hand. "Let's talk."

* * *

They sat in an abandoned school bus. The sun had set as he followed Temari blindly through Osaka before they came to a deserted field of old school buses. With a strength he was surprised to find she possessed, she chucked her suitcase over a fence before climbing after it, her nimble body only slightly hindered by her tiny skirt. He was lucky she didn't catch him looking as she swung one leg over the other side and gracefully leaped for the ground. He'd followed after her, groaning about how troublesome it was to trespass abandoned fields, but she didn't seem to listen to him as she found a school bus and pried the door open.

And there they were, sitting on opposite seats, her legs aglow in the moonlight filtering through the grimy windows. She watched him carefully as he shifted uncomfortably under her scrutiny.

"I'm going to Fukuoka to meet Hidan," she began.

"You've never met him?"

She shrugged. "I mean, I'm sure we've met sometime. Some ball or something, maybe."

He narrowed his eyes at her. "Have _we_ ever met before?"

"No." He knew she wasn't lying because she said it easily, airily, as if she'd thought about the possibility before.

"Then why are you marrying him?"

She suddenly couldn't look at him. She turned to face the back of the seat in front of her. There were a bunch of inked marking etched on the ripped leather. "My father suggested I should."

He scoffed. "I thought arranged marriages didn't happen anymore."

She looked at him pointedly. "Business transactions still do."

He didn't say anything. She was right. Marriages were nothing but contracts between two people, and arranged marriages nothing but contracts between two families. There was probably a good reason for her to sign her life away. Maybe Suna Enterprises was going bankrupt. Maybe it was Janshin Weapons. Maybe both companies had an intention to control every competitive market they could. Maybe not.

Temari looked out the window, the outline of her face illuminated by the pale light of the moon. Her nose sloped down delicately, her blonde hair appeared almost white, and her puckered lips seemed to greet the coming night.

He wanted to touch her. It was the most illogical thing he had ever felt and yet the impulse was stronger than he could bear. He wanted his fingers to run through her hair; he wanted his lips to touch her skin; he wanted her body to give beneath his.

"You want to kiss me, don't you?" She startled him out of his musings, watching him from the corner of her eyes.

"Do you read minds, now?"

She shrugged. "I don't have to read your mind to know. It's written all over your face."

He mentally took note to rearrange his features the next time she blinked. "Well, I don't."

Temari stared out the window, towards where Hidan would be waiting for his future bride. "I would let you, you know."

Shikamaru gulped, her words ringing in his ears. He watched her, waiting for her to move, to laugh, to wave the words away with her hands and say, "It was a joke." But there was nothing, only an expectant silence.

He needed no other incentive. He crawled out of his seat and propped his knee on her leather-covered bench, pausing only to see if she would react. But she waited patiently, eyes still gazing out into the night. Carefully, he took her face in his hands, long fingers cupping her chin as he turned her. She followed him willingly, eyes downcast, dark blonde lashes resting against sunburned cheeks. He'd never seen her so close and he swore on everything he knew that he had never seen a woman more beautiful than her.

Not even Ino.

Shikamaru inched closer, slowly, taking in every freckle that dusted her cheeks, the small mole under her left eye, the tiniest scar above her eyebrow, the perfect curve and bow of her lips. He memorized every inch of her skin; committed the smell of her to his memory.

And just as he pressed his lips against her soft, giving mouth, her eyes flew open to stare into his, as if daring him to continue, daring him to move away.

He didn't back down. He could see the stars.

* * *

**AN:** I know I should apologize 'cause I said I'd update but I was busy trying to graduate from college (or uni, as some of you may call it). I would promise more frequent updates but I'm tired of breaking promises. So I won't make any.

Please review! As always, they are greatly appreciated and I weep to myself at night as I read them, honored and full of joy at your words.

(I'm also very aware of the GLARING error in the previous chapter but I can't edit it out anymore without re-uploading everything and possibly mucking everything up. So my baaad)**  
**


	10. Tenth Meeting

**Tenth Meeting**

Shikamaru could not sleep. His mind, with its infinite number of turning cogs and screws, was unable to stop replaying the image of Temari's face inching closer. Nor could he forget the feeling of her lips so soft against his, or the way his heart began to beat furiously against his chest and his lungs could not hold enough air. No, sleep was the last thing he was capable of reaching. It drifted ahead of him like a beckoning light, or like a blonde haired woman with lips he wished to kiss again.

But at some point, his eyes closed, his mind slowed, and sleep claimed him. Restless sleep, because the only thing his dreams could muster was the foggy image of Ino standing at the alter, only for her face to melt away and reveal Temari's. And it was not he who stood at her side. It was always someone else. Chouji. Hidan. A faceless man.

Shikamaru awoke to offending sunlight. Again. Somehow, rays of light still filtered through the grimy windows of the old, dusty school bus, stirring him. The bus was hazy with heat and humidity, making it that much harder to awaken.

He rubbed his eyes, groaned as he tried to peel himself away from the cracked leather seat that had practically adhered to his back, and sighed heavily as he realized he was drenched in sweat. Across from him was the object of his frustration (and his dreams). She was just as sweaty, but quite possibly three hundred times more beautiful and graceful in the humid, insipid, and highly oppressive heat. Even if her hair was matted and tangled.

"Morning," Temari said. She glanced at him briefly—all too briefly, if he was being honest—before looking away and busying herself with adjusting her shirt. It was a futile effort. He was rewarded with the sight of her shedding the offending item and replacing it with one she dug out of her luggage. When her head reappeared through her shirt, she said evenly, "We should get going."

"Right," he answered casually, even though his heart was beating wildly in his chest. Something had changed that night with their kiss and now everything was wrong. She wasn't looking at him. She wanted to go. She wanted to leave him. And as troublesome as it was, he wanted to be as close to her as he could.

"It's too hot to stay in here," she added a second later before propelling from her seat and setting down the aisle, pulling her luggage behind her.

"Right," he said again, because he'd lost his heart and his ability to speak intelligently. He followed quickly and almost stumbled into her as he scrambled down the steps of the bus. When he steadied himself, he rammed his hands into his pockets and started, "About last night—"

She laughed. "It was nothing." She patted his arm lightly but still didn't look at him. "Don't worry. Won't tell a soul. Not Chouji. Not even Ino, though it could totally work in getting her jealous."

And then she was walking, as if nothing had ever happened, as if she hadn't completely changed his life.

But Shikamaru didn't really want to argue with her. Arguing would be difficult. Whatever the kiss meant would be confusing. Trying to figure out what their relationship was now reduced to would be exasperating. So he shrugged, took up his duffel bag, and followed her to Fukuoka.

* * *

He was screwed in many ways, he figured.

First, and foremost, he was screwed because he had practically fallen headfirst into liking Temari after that shortlived kiss in the abandoned schoolbus. Second, he was screwed because unlike him, she was _not_ in like with him, and so the kiss had only made her awkward. Not that he did anything to alleviate the situation. Instead, he just made things worse by staring forlornly after her, or trying to catch her eyes, or sticking his hands into his pockets and sulking while he sat on the white couch in the Sabaku's vast living room. Thirdly, he was screwed because the woman of his recent dreams was actually getting married. To some rich, dyed-blonde-haired idiot who operated a giant weapons company. And such a situation was very, _very_ familiar. So familiar, in fact, that while Shikamaru sat sulking, he could think about just how unfair life was being for playing such a dirty trick on him. _Again_.

"What're you glaring at?" Temari asked him. She sat on the other end of the couch, glaring right back at him. It lasted only a moment before she was preoccupied with looking elsewhere. "Scared of meeting my brothers?"

And that was the fourth reason why he was screwed: he was meeting her brothers. He had a sneaking suspicion they were not going to like him.

He shrugged. "Too troublesome. Can't I go home already? I got you here safe and sound."

"Mostly safe," she corrected. "Not really 'sound.' I think you aggravated me for most of the trip."

Lifting an eyebrow in disbelief, he sank back, hoping stupidly to be swallowed up by the expensive white cushions. "I think I could say the same to you." He closed his eyes and attempted to furrow deeper into the couch and drown in a sea of white.

He heard her scoff but she didn't push the issue. She was probably already distracted with the promise of seeing her brothers.

Suddenly, there was the sound of a door being swung open and then a very loud, "She's here?! She didn't even call!" Heavy footsteps filled the otherwise quiet, stagnant air, forcing Shikamaru to slowly sit up and turn towards the sound. Soon, a bulky man came barreling down the stairs, stopping only when Temari stood and gave a short wave.

The man regarded her, irritated. "Seriously? Three days late."

She shrugged. "Got caught up in stuff."

The man—her brother, Shikamaru assumed—ran down the rest of the stairs. Although they looked nothing alike, what with the man's brown hair and eyes, Shikamaru knew they were related simply by the impressive glare he gave Temari as a response.

"We thought you died," he elaborated when he reached her.

She shrugged, all nonchalant. "If I'd died, you would've heard by now." Not a second later were her hips cocked and a malicious smirk curling her lips. "Don't tell me you were worried, bro."

The bro being referred to rolled his eyes and sucked his teeth.

In no time at all, Temari was wrapping her arm around her brother's neck and pulling him down to ruffle his hair. "My cute little brother, worried about his big sister."

_Little_ brother? Shikamaru felt himself shrivel up and hoped he'd disappear into one of the cracks in the couch. He was her _little_ brother? He was practically twice Shikamaru's size. Surely the man could crush him. Perhaps spear him with the half dozen katana that decorated the otherwise empty walls of the living room.

"Gaara almost went nuts," her brother mumbled darkly, attempting to pull away from Temari. "Like, gonna hire every Japanese policeman and detective type nuts."

Temari laughed. "How melodramatic of him."

"Wait—" and suddenly Shikamaru was looking straight up at the little brother, who from up close was actually even bigger than he'd been standing next to Temari, "—who the hell is this guy?"

"Nara Shikamaru," Temari answered flippantly. She finally released her brother and perched herself on the couch's armrest.

Her brother turned back to look at her. "Don't tell me you're late because you've been shacking up with _him_?"

"Yes."

Shikamaru sat up and held his arms up in defense. From what, he didn't know, but it seemed a necessary maneuver. "No!"

Temari grinned. "He's just so irresistible."

Her brother turned to look down at him and Shikamaru was sure he could see the end of his life reflected in the angry, narrowed eyes of the young Sabaku. "No, seriously, nothing happened," he attempted feebly, although it sounded rather unconvincing. It wasn't Shikamaru's fault that the night before appeared before his eyes in a flash and made his voice falter.

From behind Temari's brother, he could see the blonde frown. "Nothing?"

"How'd you two meet?"

"We fell in love at first sight—"

"I tried to kill myself and she saved me."

There was silence. Temari's smile fell instantly. She turned away and said, "That's enough, Kankurou."

Kankurou seemed like he wanted to say more but nodded stiffly, his mouth pressing into a thin line. Then, after a moment of silence, he said, "Gaara should be down in a moment. He was on a phone call."

As if summoned by those words, a young man with startlingly red hair and piercing blue eyes descended the stairs, his face impassive. Temari was once again smiling, a bright and genuine smile that surprised Shikamaru by its sheer beauty. She was by the stairs immediately.

"You're home," the man said, regarding Temari, as if memorizing her every feature.

"Hello to you too, Gaara."

Gaara gave a curt nod. "We were worried."

Temari turned sheepish, looking away to stare at her shoes. "I know, I know. Sorry."

"You apologize to him but give me crap?" Kankurou asked, crossing his arms over his chest and glaring daggers at his siblings. "I disown you as my sister."

"Whatever, Kranky."

Kankurou's face turned red. "Stop calling me that!"

Temari laughed heartily. "There's the face I love!"

"You are the worst sister ever."

"How old are you? You've been saying that since you were old enough to string the sentence together."

"You are the most annoying person in existence!"

"Is this how you welcome your sister? I could have died!"

"It would take a miracle to kill your stubborn ass!"

Shikamaru watched the exchange as if he were having an out-of-body experience. Temari, who started off with a curling lip and eyebrows cocked, had soon evolved into an irritated version of herself. Kankurou quickly became an enraged teenager. And Gaara stood calmly by, watching just as impassively as he was moments before the yelling started. Shikamaru swore he saw the redhead roll his blue eyes, but when he blinked, the man was simply staring at him.

_Oh_, Shikamaru felt himself grow small, _he's going to kill me_.

"Who is that?"

The words, although uttered in the same voice he'd been using to speak to his sister, caused both Temari and Kankurou to stop insulting each other. Temari look from Gaara to Shikamaru before saying, "Nara Shikamaru."

Silence. Then, "From Nara, Inc?"

Shikamaru nodded. "Yeah." From somewhere in the back of his mind, he heard his mother berate him for being improper.

"How did you meet my sister?"

"Ran into her on the train."

Gaara stared at him for a moment longer, perhaps sizing him up, or perhaps determining if he was telling the truth, and then nodded. "Will you join us for dinner?"

Shikamaru felt himself begin to answer, "_No_," before Temari's voice cut through and answered for him, "Of course he's staying for dinner."

The redhead looked at him, then at Temari, and then right back at him before nodding again. "Of course. I'll tell Baki to show you to the guestroom. In the meantime, Temari, Kankurou, will you join me upstairs? We have a few things to talk about."

There was nothing else to it. All three siblings were soon walking away, Temari turning back to give one fleeting glance at Shikamaru, and then an extremely tanned man with a bald and shiny head was directing Shikamaru to follow him to his temporary living space. The man, Baki, led him up the stairs and down a long hallway before opening a door and showing him through.

"Thanks," Shikamaru muttered, taking in the simple bedroom. Just the way he liked it.

Baki nodded and then he was gone.

Shikamaru surveyed the room with little interest, caring only for where he could dump his bag and then where he could dump himself. He fell against the bed, momentarily appreciated the memory foam mattress so uncommon in Japan, and then closed his eyes in an attempt to block out the world. He imagined fluffy clouds floating along the backs of his eyelids, but soon they all turned into suspicious silhouettes of the same person, and so he dispelled the clouds with mild irritation.

Surely dinner was not going to go well. Surely this whole trip was going to end in disaster. If not for him in terms of upsetting two of the most powerful business men in Japan, then surely in terms of breaking his heart all over again when he was forced to bid Temari adieu and watch her get married to some _Yankee_ with blonde hair. What self-respecting Japanese businessman would dye his hair yellow anyway?

Shikamaru already hated Hidan and he'd never even met him.

He must have drifted off because the next thing he knew he was being shaken awake by Temari, her face looming above his, blonde hair like a halo against the lamplight shining above. She moved away as he sat up, scooting to the corner of the bed, hands in her lap.

"Morning, sleepy head," she said. Her smile was forced but at least she was looking at him.

"Good chat with your brothers?"

She didn't answer the question, instead retaliating with her own, "Did they scare you?"

"Absolutely," he answered honestly. "Do they hate me?"

"No," she said. Finally, her eyes turned downwards. "They have no reason to hate you. They're convinced I'm sleeping with you, but they don't _hate_ you."

Shikamaru found that he would have preferred if they did hate him. At least then that meant they saw him as a threat to the marriage. Then that would mean he might at least have had a chance.

"Ready for dinner?" Temari was already standing, making her way to the door. She didn't turn back to look at him before leaving.

He found himself following after her quite a bit. He wondered if this was not the way it would remain. Always staring at her back, never by her side.

The door closed heavily behind him.

* * *

**AN:** I have no excuse. Updates will be sporadic, mostly because I'm uninspired, but also because I'm a teacher, I live in a foreign country and so I drink myself into a stupor most weekends, and I have enjoyed reading more and writing less. Which probably means my writing has suffered and so everything I write now will be complete and utter shit and why are you guys even following this story like, ugh, I suck.

If you're curious about my life in Korea or as an elementary school English teacher, I point you all to my profile where my blog is located. If you're not curious, don't check me out, 'cause otherwise I'm boring.

Before anyone asks: No, I'm not Korean. Nor am I Indian. I just happen to live in the RoK and like Bollywood movies.


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